Episode 57: Shaolin Temple

Following the monk’s advice, Tang Mujin spent the night meditating. When he opened his eyes, Goeui was packing his belongings.

“What are you doing?” Tang Mujin asked.

Without turning around, Goeui replied, “What do you think? Now that everything’s wrapped up, it’s time to move on.”

“Right,” Tang Mujin muttered, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished. It wasn’t about Mok Inhang; that was all taken care of, especially after yesterday’s grand ceremony. So why this lingering unease?

After a moment of reflection, he realized it was about Dan Seolyeong. Her confident smile, claiming she had no regrets, flashed in his mind. Was that truly the face of someone with no regrets?

Lost in thought, Tang Mujin asked Goeui, “Have you finished writing your book?”

“Almost,” Goeui replied.

When Goeui first mentioned writing a medical book, Tang Mujin imagined him scribbling away with swift strokes. But Goeui’s pace was much slower than expected. He would disappear for days, laze around, or sit with his brush poised, pondering until the ink dried.

As a result, even by the time Mok Inhang’s repairs were complete, the book remained unfinished.

Tang Mujin offered generously, “Since we’re here, why not finish the book before we leave? I can wait a bit longer.”

Goeui finally turned to face him, chuckling softly. “It’s not the book that’s holding us back. It’s your reluctance to leave, isn’t it?”

Goeui had an uncanny knack for reading people. Tang Mujin expected him to tease, but instead, Goeui simply unpacked his things again. “I can wait a bit longer too. Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

Tang Mujin nodded and left the guesthouse.

When Tang Mujin arrived at Dan Seolyeong’s place, she was also packing.

She flitted about, gathering her things, and waved when she saw him. “You’re here? I thought you might have left already.”

“How could I leave so soon after fixing Mok Inhang? Besides, I’m not the type to leave without saying goodbye.”

He glanced at the pile of belongings she was packing—household items stacked on a worn cloth.

“Where are you headed?”

“Where else? Down to the village.”

“Leaving today?”

“Yes, I’ve already told my father and brother.”

Tang Mujin looked at the graves of her father and brother. The overgrown bushes had been cleared, and the weeds around the graves were neatly trimmed.

“What will you do now?”

“I’m not sure, but I won’t starve. I know a few people in the village, so I’ll find something to do.”

“Why not move to a bigger city? Luoyang isn’t far.”

“It’s too far to keep an eye on the waterwheel. I’ll come back to maintain it whenever I can.”

The monks at Shaolin could easily manage the waterwheel. Its structure wasn’t as complex as Mok Inhang’s, and it was in good condition. Even if something went wrong, a skilled craftsman could replace a part or two without much trouble.

But Tang Mujin decided not to press the issue. It was Dan Seolyeong’s decision to make.

”…Alright. I’ll stay a bit longer, so I’ll visit when I can.”

Dan Seolyeong smiled warmly. “I’ll be waiting.”

She picked up her large bundle without asking for help and waved as she headed down the mountain. She looked like an ant carrying a leaf much larger than itself.

Tang Mujin lingered in front of her now-empty house, then went inside. There wasn’t much left; it had always been a simple home.

He checked the storage room. A few unused firewood pieces remained, and small wooden parts were piled in a corner—the prototype pieces they had made together. Too precious to burn, it seemed.

The parts no longer resembled the wooden figure they once were. Arms, legs, and countless pieces lay scattered.

Suddenly, an idea struck Tang Mujin.

He stepped outside and searched the area, eventually finding a small clearing in the forest.

Nearly a month had passed since Dan Seolyeong settled in the village.

She found work at a small inn on the outskirts, as many had advised it would be the easiest job. But it was far from easy.

Though diligent, she wasn’t familiar with inn work. She wasn’t a great cook, nor was she as charming as the seasoned servers.

So she ended up doing all sorts of odd jobs—fetching water, tending fires, washing dishes, cleaning, and tidying up.

Whenever she had a moment to herself, she would sit on a small stool, lost in thought.

Dan Seolyeong rarely reminisced about the past; her life hadn’t been sweet enough to savor. But lately, she found herself reflecting often.

Mok Inhang. Working with Tang Mujin. Shaolin Temple. Her father. Her brother.

The waterwheel and her little home. And Tang Mujin again.

Most of her memories were from the recent months, not the distant past. Memories tend to linger on the happiest times.

She tried to recall the last time Tang Mujin visited. It had been over two weeks. He used to come by every few days, but then he stopped. Had he left without a word? The thought pained her.

The innkeeper’s voice broke her reverie. “Seolyeong, finish up and get some rest.”

The inn closed at sunset, so Dan Seolyeong was left alone to tidy up before stepping outside.

Her room was a small storage space in the inn’s corner. Cramped and uncomfortable, but it was the best she could manage. She couldn’t walk the mountain path to her old home every night.

She looked up at the sky. With no moon, the stars shone brighter.

As she gazed at the stars, she sensed someone approaching.

The footsteps weren’t heading down the main road but coming toward her. A chill ran down her spine.

She clenched her fist. ‘If they try anything, I’ll fight back.’

She was confident in her strength and could handle a drunken fool.

The footsteps stopped beside her. No smell of alcohol, but the air felt tense.

Just as she was about to strike, a familiar voice spoke.

“Finished with work?”

It was Tang Mujin’s voice, after so long.

Relief and a strange sadness washed over her, and her voice turned a bit sharp. “What? I thought you’d left.”

“I said I’d say goodbye before leaving.”

“I know, but you took too long.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

“Well, you’re here now. So, why are you here?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Her heart sank, but she kept her tone light. “Alright. Have you eaten? Want me to buy you dinner?”

She mentally counted her money. Not much, but enough for a meal.

But Tang Mujin shook his head. “No, I’m not hungry. I came for something else.”

“Something else?”

“Come with me. I have something to show you.”

He led the way, his face briefly illuminated by the red lanterns of the nearby tavern.

She thought they might stroll through the village, but he headed away from the lights, toward the mountain path.

‘Where are we going?’

They quickly left the village behind, the darkness enveloping them.

Tang Mujin’s steps led them up the mountain, toward her old home on Songshan’s lesser peak.

For a moment, she wondered if she should be following a man into the night.

But she didn’t stop. She knew Tang Mujin wasn’t a bad person, and part of her was ready to see where this would lead.

“Are we going to my house?”

“The direction’s right.”

An odd way to put it. There was nothing special beyond her house.

‘Is he planning something inappropriate?’

The familiar sound of a waterwheel reached her ears.

If she went home from here, it was almost certain that something was about to happen.

Dan Seol-young’s heart raced. Should she just go along with it? Or should she resist a little before pretending to give in?

Contrary to her expectations, Tang Mu-jin didn’t lead her home.

Soon, they came upon the graves of her father and brother. A bit of grass had grown between them.

She wondered why he had brought her to the graves, but Tang Mu-jin didn’t stop there.

Dan Seol-young began to feel uneasy. They were deep in the mountains, a place even she had rarely ventured. What was his intention in bringing her here?

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I have something to show you.”

“Can’t you just tell me what it is?”

“It’s better if you see it for yourself.”

Tang Mu-jin offered no further explanation and continued walking.

The air was cool, and the only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the chirping of insects.

Then, somewhere in the dark forest, Tang Mu-jin stopped. A faint sound of water could be heard.

He pulled a thin, slender tube from his pocket. When he opened it, a small, glowing ember was revealed. It was a fire starter.

He transferred the ember to a torch in his right hand. The smell of oil intensified, and the surroundings lit up.

In the light, Dan Seol-young saw a tiny house. It was so small it could barely be called a shed. Maybe a couple of kids could fit inside, but it was too small for her or Tang Mu-jin.

Despite its size, the exterior was quite impressive.

Nearby, a small waterwheel was installed by the stream. Its structure was simple, not much different from the one next to Dan Seol-young’s house.

Wooden rods connected the waterwheel to the tiny house. Dan Seol-young’s heart pounded. Could it be?

“Look closely,” Tang Mu-jin said.

He lifted the roof of the tiny house. For a moment, Dan Seol-young’s breath caught.

Inside, small wooden figures were moving. Roughly carved wooden monks stood watching them.

These were the prototype parts she and Tang Mu-jin had made to repair the wooden figures. Tang Mu-jin had assembled them, creating a miniature wooden puppet theater.

A theater made solely for Dan Seol-young.

Only she could witness this scene.

The reason for creating this puppet theater was singular: to show it to Dan Seol-young.

“I didn’t sleep a wink making this. What do you think?”

Under the flickering torchlight, Tang Mu-jin’s face looked gaunt. He wasn’t joking about not sleeping.

“Is it okay to make something like this?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be gone by tomorrow night.”

Dan Seol-young stared at the tiny puppet theater, her vision blurring.

She finally understood why she couldn’t leave Songshan even after fixing the wooden figures, why she couldn’t entrust the waterwheel to the Shaolin monks.

It was attachment.

She thought she had no regrets once the puppet theater moved, but that was a delusion.

Dan Seol-young had poured more into the puppet theater than anyone else in Shaolin, more than anyone in the world. Her attachment to it was indescribably deep.

Even the small regrets others had for the puppet theater were resolved by Tang Mu-jin’s hands.

But her own attachment remained unresolved. It seemed to have deepened, as if she had taken on the regrets of others.

She wanted to see the puppet theater, the long-held wish of the Dan family, now fulfilled.

Her attachment was so great that she couldn’t leave Songshan. Like a restless spirit, she lingered, waiting for a chance that had never come and would never come.

In an instant, the layers of regret and sorrow that had built up over a lifetime melted away.

Dan Seol-young buried her face in Tang Mu-jin’s chest and cried endlessly.

Tang Mu-jin gently patted her back.

Perhaps staying a little longer in Shaolin was worth it.

Perhaps enduring the hardships in the mountains alone was worth it.

Finally, Tang Mu-jin felt a sense of relief.

But when he looked up, he met the eyes of someone he shouldn’t have. In the dark forest stood the Precepts Master.

”!”

Tang Mu-jin froze, and Dan Seol-young, sensing something was wrong, turned to look behind her.

She saw the Precepts Master standing there.

Dan Seol-young didn’t know who he was, but she understood that a Shaolin monk witnessing this scene was not good.

Her mind went blank.

Tang Mu-jin, however, was different. His mind raced with thoughts.

There was no room for excuses. If they were taken to Shaolin, would the monks defend him again?

No, they wouldn’t.

What should he do? Run away? Accept the punishment? But with Dan Seol-young, who had done nothing wrong?

He couldn’t let that happen. Could he fight the Precepts Master and subdue him? Was there a chance of winning? Even if he could, should he?

Then, the Precepts Master slowly shook his head with his eyes closed.

Only now did Tang Mu-jin notice the expression on the Precepts Master’s face. It wasn’t the rigid expression of a wooden figure but that of an ordinary person. It was a face that seemed strangely unfamiliar.

“Don’t worry. What you fear won’t happen,” the Precepts Master said.

“Are you saying there won’t be any punishment?”

“Of course. I’ve never wished for your punishment. I’m not as rigid as you think. I just happen to be in a position where I need to be.”

Tang Mu-jin took a few steps back, scrutinizing the Precepts Master.

There was sincerity in his expression. But given his past actions, Tang Mu-jin found it hard to trust him.

“You don’t need to doubt. I’ve been watching you since the day Miss Dan left home and you started building this puppet theater. If I intended to harm you, it would have happened already.”

The Precepts Master knew exactly when Tang Mu-jin had begun his work.

And as he said, if he had spoken up, Tang Mu-jin would have been immediately taken to Shaolin and punished.

Tang Mu-jin remained tense, but his voice softened slightly.

“Have you been watching me?”

“Not you, but the Shaolin monks. I stayed around to ensure they didn’t discover the puppet theater.”

”…Why?”

“Because if the other monks saw your puppet theater, there would be no way to avoid punishment.”

“Are you saying you protected me?”

“Protecting isn’t the right word. The Precepts are meant to keep the Shaolin monks in check, not to harm outsiders.”

Dan Seol-young, unable to grasp the situation, clung tightly to Tang Mu-jin’s sleeve with a tense expression.

Tang Mu-jin, too, found it hard to understand the Precepts Master’s words.

He gently wrapped an arm around Dan Seol-young’s shoulder and spoke.

“I can’t believe it. You were the one who called for an emergency meeting when I learned the White Lotus Divine Fist and the Shadowless Step.”

“I’m sorry about that. But I had to bring it up.”

“Explain it so I can understand.”

“That’s the role of the Precepts Master. Even if it’s ungrateful, even if it’s not accepted, even if I’m criticized, I have to speak the rigid truth and take the blame.”

The Precepts Master smiled awkwardly, as if apologetic. Surprisingly, he was a man of many expressions.

He walked slowly toward the stream.

“The world is like a river. It changes and flows endlessly. Since Shaolin was established, many sects and clans have fallen, and nations have risen and fallen several times.”

He placed a small leaf on the water. It floated for a moment before being swept away by the current and disappearing.

“If the world is a river, Shaolin is a boat on that river. The boat cannot be free from the current. Master Boddhidharma and the other founders wanted to ensure that Shaolin wouldn’t be swept away, so they created an anchor.”

“Are you talking about the Precepts?”

“Yes. The Precepts and the Ten Commandments guarded by the Ten Victories. The Precepts have kept Shaolin from being swept away by the world’s currents, allowing it to endure for centuries.”

The Precepts Master continued slowly.

“Shaolin doesn’t form alliances, engage in commerce, or chase after power because it follows the Precepts. It simply waits on Songshan for times of crisis. That’s the role Master Boddhidharma envisioned for Shaolin. The Precepts Master ensures that Shaolin can continue for a thousand years, serving as an anchor to uphold the Precepts. I am the anchor holding Shaolin against the current.”

Tang Mu-jin frowned.

“Does that mean you’ll apply the strict Precepts to me as well?”

The Precepts Master shook his head.

“Master Tang, you are not aboard the ship called Shaolin. You are like a leaf caught in the current, perhaps to sink tomorrow or to drift all the way to the sea in the distant future. And this old anchor does not hold onto drifting leaves. The precepts are meant to guide the hearts of Shaolin monks, not to harm outsiders.”

Not meant to harm outsiders, indeed.

Tang Mujin pondered whether the Precepts Master’s words had caused him any harm.

None. In fact, his own martial arts, the White Lotus Divine Fist and the Shadowless Step, were now free from potential future complications.

Moreover, the venerable monk had even offered him the Great Elixir, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Unlike the other monks, perhaps this monk understood the Precepts Master’s role deeply and thus offered Tang Mujin a more generous reward.

He could have defended his actions with such explanations, yet the Precepts Master was not one to boast. He simply bowed his head again, apologizing to Tang Mujin.

“I realize my inflexibility has caused you trouble, Master Tang. I sincerely apologize.”

Suddenly, Tang Mujin recalled the image of the Precepts Master being criticized by other monks.

He remembered their harsh expressions, their angry voices as they condemned the Precepts Master.

Despite enduring all that criticism, the Precepts Master now bowed his head to the young Tang Mujin, seeking forgiveness.

The Precepts Master reminded Tang Mujin of Danselyeong, with that same pure, unwavering dedication.

Tang Mujin did not speak of forgiveness.

Instead, he posed a question to the Precepts Master.

“Isn’t the role of Precepts Master burdensome for you?”

The Precepts Master seemed taken aback, as if he had never heard such a question before, his eyes widening in surprise.

Then, he smiled gently, like the Buddha himself.

“Does that really matter?”