Deep one storm-tossed night some hundred and twenty years ago, a young woman galloped her horse pellmell through lightning, thunder, and torrential rain to the foot of Tuhai Mountain, the site of Mamba Rasang Monastery. She sprang down from the horse and set off at a run up the steps to the temple. Five hundred and sixtyfour stone steps, so folk said, steps that wound up through the plash of the downpour and the intermittent brilliance of the lightning until their top was lost in cloud. As the young woman ran headlong upwards, the shape of the famous monastery was illuminated by another flash from above: in its centre stood the great hall of the Medicine Buddha, the surrounding slopes dotted high and low by a scatter of monastic cells. In the dark of the rain-filled night the complex of buildings had been hard to discern but the lightning revealed it cloaked in an unsettling eerie pallor. A high-walled compound stood to the south-east of the Medicine Buddha Hall. The young woman ran to this and began beating hard on the gate.
"Master, open the gate!"
Overhead thunder still rolled and lightning flashed. A mighty clamour filled the sky above Mamba Rasang and a great rain came bucketing down.
A century and more back, Ordos was a place of plentiful rains. Folk say the day our story begins had been clear but by afternoon people could see dark clouds gathered on the peak of the mountain called Uruumdush. The clouds rested there unmoving at first but as the sun set began to come rolling down. The people knew a storm was imminent. Herders out in the pastures drove their livestock home early and folk left at home began to move their stacks of dried dung as fuelwood indoors. Monks from Mamba Rasang out calling on the sick of the township made to hurry back to the monastery before the rain. All across the grasslands were scenes of urgency and bustle. The rainstorm arrived that evening and set the very earth atremble. When it first broke, thunder and lightning enveloped Uruumdush peak, but in a little while the storm shifted to the mouth of the famous Black Dragon Gorge, then raged above the pavement of curious rock formations deep in the recesses of the mountain massif before hurling itself towards Mamba Rasang. There was no sign of any let-up in the downpour, and deep on into the night Mamba Rasang was wreathed by lightning bolts and the roar of thunder. It would become apparent in the days to come that the storm had affected many places, causing many terrible disasters. The Yellow River some thirty li (a unit of length in Chinese, equivalent to 500 meters) on beyond Mamba Rasang ran in spate that night, and it was said floodwaters swept away many of the thatched huts of the boating families that lay along its banks, leaving no trace of man or livestock. The croplands of the Hui people on the west bank of the river were also sorely affected, and several flocks from the vicinity of Mamba Rasang were likewise carried away in the flood. On the night itself, the extent of the disaster was not yet known. The scholar-monks of Mamba Rasang and the herding folk living in the vicinity of the mountain monastery hunkered down indoors and waited for the storm to pass. Most likely the young woman was the only person galloping abroad on such a night of great rain.
Apparently on business of great urgency, the young woman stood before the compound and hammered hard at the gate. "Master, will you open the gate for me?"
After the longest time, a light showed within and someone approached. The rain-sodden gates gave a heavy creak as at long last they were opened. Inside stood a sturdily built monk of some forty years of age. This was Wangdan, one of the famed doctor-monks of Mamba Rasang.
"Master Wangdan! I am a servant of the Deputy of the East at the Banneryamen. Beginning this noon our mistress has been stricken by vomiting and the flux ..." The young woman was so thoroughly drenched she might have fallen into open water.
"I see. Come inside and tell me more."
The woman stepped into the resplendent hall of the doctor-monks.
"You say your mistress is out of sorts?" The monk Wangdan held a large agate snuff bottle and clearly was not pleased that the young woman was asking him to make a house call on such a stormy night.
"Our mistress was taken with vomiting and the flux this noon, and come evening she began fainting away." Although she had said she was only a servant, the young woman was after all the maid to an important household and her description of the situation was neat and precise. Having spoken, the woman took out a short khatag upon which lay a silver tael: "Our master said I was to offer you this token of thanks for your visit. Of course, there will also be a much greater token once you have come to the house."
Wangdan's expression became much more sympathetic on sight of the silver. "A malady may strike any one of us; there was no need for such formality." He placed the khatag and its silver burden on one side. "Well, let us set forth at once. Though we must first seek out my horse at the foot of the mountain, which will take some small while."
"There is no need for you to fetch your own horse; I led a second mount behind me when I came."
"Well, that spares us much trouble."
Tucking his medicine bag under his arm, Wangdan followed the young woman out of the gate. Water lay everywhere around the monastery buildings; in the mountain gullies the streams raged in loud torrent. Using the frequent flashes of lightning, the pair picked the driest way they could until they came to the top of the flight of five hundred and sixty-four stone steps. Wangdan hitched up his robe and set off downwards beside the young woman. In a short time Wangdan was soaked to the skin, yet he remained in good spirits.
Doctor Wangdan was an old friend of the Deputy of the East. Whenever there was sickness or accident in the latter's household Wangdan would be summoned. The Deputy himself, stroking at his goatee, would attend on Wangdan in person during such visits, while his wife Subudal Dari would sing and pour wine. The Deputy was the older brother of the present Prince of the Banner. He had contested the princely title with his younger sibling some ten years past but failed and hence was given the title Deputy. He had moved out of the official residence and now lived quietly in the countryside. Yet even a half-starved camel is bigger than a horse, as they say, and the Deputy retained much wealth and influence; indeed, his riches were a source of wonder in the locality. Whenever he summoned Wangdan to attend to a patient he would be sure to reward the doctor with much silver. Thus, no matter how rain-swept the night, Wangdan was pleased to have been called upon. It occurred to Wangdan that if silver had been offered merely on summoning him, should he succeed in curing the Deputy's wife's illness he could doubtless expect to be rewarded with a four-legged beast, one he could lead or drive back to the monastery. And wasn't the herding girl Norjmaa one of the Deputy's household?
Lightning filled the sky once more and by its light Wangdan happened to catch sight of something glinting at the young woman's earlobe. He of course could tell it was a gold pendant earring.
Wangdan at once stopped in his tracks.
Even a serving girl at so wealthy a mansion was still only a maid; how did she come to be wearing such an expensive piece of jewellery? The thought stirred doubts. The towering cliffs and overhanging rocks revealed by the intermittent flashes of lightning took on a strange aspect, and tales of robbers and ghosts he had so often heard swam in Wangdan's brain. He began to regret his choice; he should never have come out on a night like this with a woman who was a complete stranger. This is why he stopped.
"Are you a new servant at the Deputy's house?" His demeanour suggested that if his question did not receive a straight answer he would not be going a step further.
"Do you not recognise me, master? When you stayed at the Deputy's mansion for a few days attending his sickness this spring just past, it was me who fed and watered your horse each day." The young woman chuckled, "You only remember Norjmaa, you've forgotten about the rest of us."
Wangdan continued on again, wondering if this really was a servant at the Deputy's house. She seemed to know everything about what had happened between him and Norjmaa. After a few paces more he couldn't shake the feeling that, no, the bitch was lying. He had indeed spent some days staying at the Deputy's house the previous spring, but he'd fed and watered his horse himself. Why was she now claiming she'd done it? He might forget other details but not who cared for the horse. He'd used that as his excuse to cover assignations with the herd-girl Norjmaa out in the grasslands. Wangdan enjoyed his little dalliances with women. That spring at the Deputy's house he'd made eyes at Norjmaa and succeeded in winning her favour. Unfortunately the Deputy recovered from his illness too fast and there was nothing for it but to bid the girl farewell and return to Mamba Rasang.
Wangdan again stopped walking.
"Master, are you thinking I'm a liar? I was only teasing you. When you came in the spring it so happened I'd gone on a visit home, but I heard about it later from dear sister Norjmaa." The young woman laughed again, then continued, "Let's hurry, master. Even if you're not so bothered about our sick mistress, you should be eager to see your Norjmaa."
"So Norjmaa tells you even things like that?" Wangdan looked fixedly at the young woman.
"How could she not tell me? It's the most natural thing in the world for young women to show off to each other about this sort of thing. You surely don't need telling how proud Norjmaa was to have gotten involved with such a famous doctor-monk as yourself."
Wangdan resumed his onward progress once more. But once a fear has taken hold of a man it doesn't just melt away in an instant. The more he walked, the more troubled he felt, and his pace began to slow. The more he considered what was happening this night, the more something didn't feel right about it.
Just as he was preparing to halt again, the young woman gave a cry and dropped into a squat.
"What's up with you?"
"I turned my ankle," she groaned. "I think I've broken it." A flash of lightning revealed that she had rolled her trouser leg up over her knee.
Wangdan was nonplussed.
"Take a look at it for me, will you? It really hurts." There was something almost cosseting in her tone.
Wangdan was more than happy to put his hands on the smooth whiteness of her leg. After a bit of most un-medical fumbling he said, "A bone encased in such soft and tender flesh is not liable to break so easily." His smile was more of a leer.
"I'm sure you're only joking, master. Let's talk about it again once we've arrived, what could we get up to in rain like this?" The young woman continued, "Could you help me walk? How embarrassing!"
Wangdan was more than happy to support her as she walked and indeed would not have baulked at slinging her over his shoulder if required. He now became the model of solicitousness, supporting her as they made their way downhill and saying, "If you find it too much you can rest your head on my shoulder and put your arm around my neck."
When they finally struggled down to the foot of the mountain, there came another great flash of lightning. A number of well-saddled horses could be seen at the foot of the mountain. Dark shapes began to make their way over to the pair.
Wangdan realised something was amiss. "I forgot one of my medicine bags; I'll head back up and fetch it."
"We don't need medicine." The young woman's voice had turned icy cold. Her leg seemed not to be hurting any more.
"No ...this ..." Wangdan looked at the approaching figures as they were illuminated by a flash overhead, and when the pitch darkness swallowed everything back up again, he made a sudden dash away from them. He thought that on such a black night all he needed to do was to get some distance between them and he might still have a chance of escaping.
But someone tripped him up. Wangdan fell headlong and rolled over on the ground several times. It looked like he was going to have to fight for his life. He made ready to spit out the dirt filling his mouth and begin the game of kicks and blows with his assailants. But it turned out they were no easy opponents and with the smallest effort succeeded in overcoming Wangdan and binding him hand and foot. He had lost his medicine bag and his hat and one boot had fallen off too. Wangdan quietly tested his bonds to see if they might be slipped but it was hopeless, so he resolved himself to going along quietly with whatever was to come.
Lightning arced across the sky once more and Wangdan saw the stone steps snaking upwards through the torrential rain; at their far end was the faint outline of the golden roof of the Medicine Buddha Hall. Then came an almighty thunderclap and everything went dark . . .
The following day was one of clear skies and bright sunshine. Thoroughly soaked by the night's rain the monastery wall emitted a patchy smell of damp. At this point, no one was as yet aware of what had happened the previous night.
Mamba Rasang was not just a famous monastery; it was also quite different from any other. Here the object of veneration was not the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara but rather Bhai?ajyaguru, the Medicine Buddha, and the scent was not of incense and burnt mulberry offerings but of Mongolian and Tibetan herbal medicines. It was this that made Mamba Rasang a special place. Mamba means doctor and a rasang is a college or a research institute, which tells us the monastery was a college of medicine. Mamba Rasang boasted several famous doctors and here even the cooks and grooms had enough medical knowledge to take pulses and prescribe simple remedies.
The affairs of the mundane world will carry on in their fixed courses, unaffected by the disappearance of a doctor-monk from Mamba Rasang. Moreover, no one yet knew that any monk had gone missing. Thus, as a new day dawned, everyday business carried on in its everyday fashion. For instance, the Rasang Khenpo, the abbot in charge of Mamba Rasang, had risen early that morning, and having taken breakfast was now carrying on a game of chess unfinished the previous night with one of his disciples. Wangdan's own junior fellow apprentice colleague Chultemiin had gone up onto the mountain to pick medicinal herbs while the dew was still fresh, and his apprentice, the cook Yechil, made his way listlessly to the monastery kitchens. Genden with the crippled hand was pounding medicine in a bronze mortar. Jinpa, another of Mamba Rasang's famous doctors, was disagreeing with a wandering medicine man on the best way to treat a wealthy country patient. Two horses were bet on the right answer. It truly was a fine and untroubled morning. Monks relieving themselves out past the lane of prayer wheels greeted each other with a few remarks on the pleasant weather, or perhaps a comment that the heavy rains of the previous night promised a good harvest. Pleasantries exchanged, they wandered unhurriedly away about their own business. Monks came and went from the main Medicine Buddha Hall to light votive lamps and offer incense. Occasionally a monk would emerge from the compound where work was underway compiling a great multi-volume momographs on materia medica , bloodshot eyes testament to a sleepless night of penmanship. The sound of chanted recitation drifted over from the sutra hall where the young novices were taught the medical classics.
By the time anyone thought to look for Wangdan it was already noon.
At midday a villager came looking for Wangdan to pick up some medicine. The gate to Wangdan's quarters was locked so he went to the kitchens to make inquiries. The cooks told him that Wangdan ought to be in-Ganbelig, one of the cooks, had stomach trouble in the night and had gone to Wangdan for medicine. The villager had been taking medicine prescribed by Wangdan for some time but had now run out, so he was determined to get more today no matter what. He went from room to room in the monks' quarters asking after Wangdan but still he could not find him. After some while of this the villager began to think something odd was afoot. Had the cooks not said that Wangdan had been in the previous night? And on his way to the monastery earlier the villager had seen Wangdan's horse with its bridle on grazing at the foot of the mountain. Wangdan would not have gone anywhere on foot last night in such a rainstorm. He must be somewhere in the monastery.
While this was going on, Yechil from the kitchens had gone down to the spring at the foot of the mountain to fetch water. He returned saying that he had seen a hat, a boot, and a medicine bag by the spring that looked like they belonged to Wangdan. He had also seen a muddle of footprints left by what appeared to be several people. Yechil was apprenticed to Chultemiin, who was in turn a junior under Wangdan, and so he had recognised Wangdan's things at once. He had not picked up the boot or hat but he did bring the medicine bag back with him. On inspection the pouch proved to indeed be Wangdan's medicine bag, which caused consternation amongst the various monks and lay brothers. Some went to report the matter to the Sutra Master and the Master of Offerings while others went down to the spring to fetch the hat and boot. The two Masters called together other senior monks to discuss the matter and decided to go to Wangdan's quarters in the hope of getting to the bottom of the business.
The gate to Wangdan's compound was locked so the Sutra Master sent a novice to fetch Dalantai from the kitchens. This Dalantai was a burly fellow and he soon smashed off the lock with a hammer. Pushing open the door to Wangdan's compound, all was silent, pools of rainwater lying in the yard. The monks jemmied open the door to Wangdan's room and went in. It was a large room, heady with the scent of herbal medicines. The cupboards, chests, and even the rug on the kang bed all seemed to be in order, with no sign that anything untoward might have happened. On the small table in the middle of the kang lay an open medical sutra and a half-drunk bowl of tea, enough to make the monks wonder if Wangdan had been sitting there just a moment ago sipping tea and reading.
Then something caught the eye of the Master of Offerings. "Look at that, what is it?" He spotted a silver tael on a silk khatag lying on a small chest at one corner of the bed. He picked them up and turned them over in his hands. After some time he said, "Perhaps someone came in the night to ask Wangdan to make a house call."
The Sutra Master said, "But his hat, boot, and medicine bag were dropped down at the bottom of the mountain. That doesn't seem like going on a house call." He sent someone to fetch Ganbelig from the kitchens, who soon arrived.
"Was it very late when you came to get medicine from Wangdan last night?" the Sutra Master asked.
"Very late. I slept for a while and when I woke my stomach was hurting something awful so despite the rain I ran over here to get some medicine."
"What was Wangdan doing when you got here?"
"Drinking tea and reading a sutra."
"And he was alone?"
"Yes, alone."
"You saw no one else?"
" No one."
The Sutra Master frowned. "Off you go then." Ganbelig headed back to the kitchens.
It was past noon by the time They emerged from Wangdan's quarters. The Sutra Master told Dalantai to put a new lock on the gate, then he and the Master of Offerings made to leave.
They could see a monk of middling height coming down from the mountain. It was Chultemiin, who was completing his studies under Wangdan. He appeared to be returning from gathering herbs on the mountain.
"Isn't that Chultemiin? Let's ask him if he knows anything," said the Sutra Master.
The Master of Offerings shook his head. "Look at him, all he knows is collecting herbs, what could he tell us?"
"Is he not studying with Wangdan?"
"But they don't really get on. They can pass right by each other and barely say hello."
"Well it won't hurt to ask."
The Master of Offerings said no more. They waited together until Chultemiin came up to them.
"Wangdan has gone missing. Had you heard?"
"What?" Beads of sweat stood out on Chultemiin's face, it had turned into a hot and close day.
"Wangdan has disappeared. It seems to have happened sometime last night."
"What are you talking about? Didn't he get called out on a visit last night?" said Chultemiin.
The Sutra Master was surprised. "Someone asked him to make a house call? Who was this? Did you see them?"
"I did, it was a woman came to fetch him. I saw Wangdan carrying his medicine bag and going off with her."
The Master of Offerings said, "Is that so? It's too hot out here, let's take tea in your quarters while we talk some more. Neither of us has had midday tea."
Chultemiin's quarters were much smaller and meaner than those of Wangdan. He invited the two senior monks to sit on the kang while he brewed them some tea.
"Tell us what happened again," said the Master of Offerings.
"Did I not just say?"
"What you said was not true, it seems certain that Wangdan had been kidnapped. So you tell us, who was it kidnapped him?"
"Kidnapped? That's just what you are calling it. What I saw was him leaving with a person of his own accord."
"Perhaps when they set off he went willingly but when they got down the mountain it turned into something else. When your apprentice Yechil went to fetch water he found Wangdan's hat, medicine bag, and one of his boots."
"Really? That is very odd."
"Did Wangdan have any enemies?"
"Nobody you'd call an enemy though there are more than a few who take a dislike to the man. I'm sure you know, he's not the best of characters, but surely not so unpleasant that it would lead someone to kidnap him?"
"How do you know it was a woman who came to fetch him? Did you watch her arrive?"
"Me? I'd been caught out by the rain and I was sheltering in the cave where Wangdan stores his cow dung." Chultemiin couldn't help grinning.
Chultemiin said that the previous afternoon he had gone up the mountain to fetch the herbs he'd left out to dry when the rains came and he was forced to take shelter in a cave. Late into the night the rain eased off a little so he dashed down the mountain as fast as he could but the rain began to fall heavily again. A flash of lightning showed him he'd reached Wangdan's quarters and he spotted a cave in a large boulder at the south-west corner of the compound. He knew this was where Wangdan stored dried dung for fuel. Chultemiin squeezed into the cave. Intermittent flashes of lightning occasionally illuminated Wangdan's compound. He saw Ganbelig go dashing in, clutching his head. Not long after Ganbelig left he saw a woman arrive and begin beating at the gate . . .
"What sort of woman? Did you recognise her?"
"I didn't get a clear look. Not someone I know going by the sound of her voice."
It was well into the afternoon by the time the Sutra Master and Master of Offerings left Chultemiin's quarters.
