Chapter 20
The Rock Reliefs
Blind jealousy leads the Father to destroy his family's joy with his own hands. As a husband, he bears endless remorse and torment.
He grips a long sword, scouring the four reaches for that servant, yet the knave has long since fled, vanishing without a trace.
With happiness shattered and all hope withered, he gathers the children and nephew to establish a sacred temple and offer sacrifices to the spirit of his wife where she once dwelt. Day and night, he kneels prostrate by the stream that stains the hillsides crimson every spring.
Wherever the stream flows, the earth transforms into forests of jasper peaches, shrouded in ethereal mists.
He weeps until the blood in his eyes runs dry, pleading for her return to life. He cries to the Heavens, but the Heavens do not answer; he cries to the Earth, but the Earth remains silent. In the end, naught remains but tears of regret, gathering into a great river.
The Northern River flows into the Southern Spring; this is the mother's blood. The torrents at the river's bed roar, shaking the realm, wailing for that unpardonable folly.
After that moment of grief and remorse, the river and the stream converge, cleansing the unjust disgrace borne by the faithful wife. Blood is steeped in tears, transforming into a white waterfall that pours from the towering peaks. At the place where he once bid farewell to his wife and babe, the falls part around Mother Mountain into rivers and brooks, eventually merging into the Ky Cung River.
To the North lie the streams: Pac Day, Lang Kim, Co Khuong, Khuoi Phieng, Khuoi Luong.
To the South lie the streams: Khuoi Lay, Khuoi Tang, Khuoi Cap, Na Mau, Lap Pia, Ban Khoai.
The rivers and brooks sob day and night, like a dirge echoing to stir the hearts of ten thousand folk. People lament the Mother's tragic fate, yet remain grateful for the Father's deed in repelling the foreign invaders. The folk of Mau Son raise altars for ritual, building a bridge to span the three realms so her soul may ascend to the Celestial Court to seek vindication before the Jade Emperor.
The Jade Emperor dispatches seven celestial maidens disguised as mortals to descend and observe. After some time, they return to the heavens to report to the Jade Emperor:
"The Father repents. They are kept apart by Living Separation; may the Jade Emperor grant that they find union after Death Parting!"
The Jade Emperor decrees:
"Bury them together."
Thereafter, mountains rise beneath the graves, becoming Father Mountain, Mother Mountain, Son Mountains, and Nephew Mountain. The peaks encircle one another in a wondrous spectacle of nature, cloaked in the verdant green of primeval woods.
To this day, the forests of Loc Binh retain their ancient visage. Each person seeks a corner of their own. The men climb to the highest summit—Father Mountain—gazing across the realm with the will to protect their kin.
The women carry their babes eastward through the hamlets of Cao Loc[1], finally ascending Mother Mountain to stand beside the two Son Mountains, though they remain slightly lower than Father Mountain. There, the mother perceives the maternal bond that shields her children in the father's absence.
If a man strays into darkness and mistreats his wife and children, it brings ruin upon the household. The grieving go to Chi Ma[2]; the sorrowful go to Loc Binh. They gaze at Father Mountain and the two Son Mountains from afar, yet stand forever sundered from Mother Mountain.
The bitterness of the divide between Yin and Yang remains; all are shamed by their life's great errors and must look within themselves. The small Nephew Mountain circles them all.
Beneath the distant, hazy horizon stands a lone, conical mount between Van Lang, Dong Dang, and Lang Chau. This solitary peak is the soul of Chop Chai, who blames himself as the source of calamity without end. Upon learning of the family tragedy, he falls into a melancholy sickness and dies young.
As ages pass, the villagers imagine the sorrowful mountain facing toward an unfortunate family to warn posterity not to tread in the footsteps of those who came before.
The folk of Mau Son are enthralled by the legend of the falls at the summit, saying they are formed of the Father's tears of remorse. Time vindicates the Mother; the celestial maidens oft descend to bathe in the falls, as though to cleanse the dust of the mortal realm.
For a thousand years, the waterfall has tumbled from the heights, gathering into lakes and pools of crystalline sweetness that never run dry. Gazing from other peaks, the lake-light shimmers like a mirror left behind by the celestial maidens.
Rivers, streams, ponds, and lakes each possess their own distinct beauty, serving as the fount of life for hundreds of families.
Because the waters are pure and the seasons mild, the immortals sow flower seeds upon the crest of Mau Son, birthing fragrant pink peaches.
Once tasted, a lifetime shall not forget the savor of sweet and rich, mingled with bitter and pungent, soaked in blood intermingled with tears of a thousand-year love story.
Opposite the orchard of ripe peach blossoms standeth a quiet lemon garden, withdrawn into a secluded corner. The locals say that the small fruit is the tear of the father's remorse.
All who suffer a similar fate come to Mau Son, hoping to drown their sorrows in wine fermented with the pure, pungent fragrance of lemon, and remain in a drunken stupor forever, never to awaken again.
Gourmets invite their wine-companions to savor the famed blooms and rare fruits of Mau Son, and word spreads to the four reaches of the realm. The Passion-bound often journey to Mau Son, for believers hold this: they who pray for kinship and marriage before the white scar of the slopes shall receive a bounty of perfect bliss."
When the rains descend, the white scar turns into a soaring cataract. Rumor claims it is the mark of the Flower Celestial Maiden upon the Mother's shoulder, a testament to her faithfulness. Beneath the clear sun, when one gazes from the heights of Nephew Mountain, the white scar appears amidst the boundless sea of forest.
Such stirring legends cause rumors to outpace the truth. Some believers claim: if one bathes within the falls and then burns incense at the ruins of the Mau Son sacred temple, all shall come to pass as one wills.
Those who burn incense and pray for fortune do not ask when the sacred temple was built. Some may bow in solemn rite and ask of its origin. The local folk say: this sacred temple was built by the Father to offer sacrifice for her.
Using the crags of her wrongful death, he carved the pillar bases and set them upon stone foundations. Every day he goeth to the sacred temple, and eternally torments his soul with his own sins[3].
The voice of the venerable elder flows, warm and deep, touching the hearts of the sorrowful. The guests mourn in silence, bowing their heads as they secretly conceal their tears. Having heard of the affairs of spirits, the crowd suddenly recalls the old crone's words regarding the "Darkling Spirit," and they grow curious, questioning the venerable elder. He strokes his beard and speaks softly:
- According to Daoist doctrine, a human possesses three souls: Thai Quang, Sang Linh, and U Tinh. This doctrine is recorded in works from the Six Dynasties through the Tang. The original meaning of Darkling Spirit is as follows: 'U' denotes darkness, depth, concealment, and secrecy. 'Tinh' is the primal qi of life and also its purest substance. Tinh lies in concealment and dwells within the hidden depths of life. According to Daoism, the doctrine of the Three Souls is as follows: Thai Quang is the clear, luminous continuation of life's vitality; Sang Linh is the bright and nimble spirit consciousness; U Tinh is the deep and concealed soul, ever accompanying vital qi and the corporeal form. It is the deepest of the Three Souls. In ancient medical arts and Daoist Inner Alchemy, 'Tinh' corresponds to the kidneys, primal qi, and the blood vessels; thus U Tinh is also bound to vital qi and the bodily origin of life.
The elder clears his throat and speaks again:
- Yet the ancient scrolls never held U Tinh as the vessel of desire. It is inherently a part of the soul, used to bind the spirits to the flesh and to the primal qi, keeping them steadfast. When a person perishes, the souls scatter and U Tinh departs the frame. The three souls lean toward the spirit, while the seven pneuma-spirits lean toward the form and the natural instincts of one's heaven-sent nature. The lusts and desires of the world are mostly bound to the pneuma-spirits, not to U Tinh alone.
Seeing the guests listening with rapt attention, the elder smiles:
- Such is the talk of the Dao-seekers. Yet in the realm of Mau Son, the folk of the wild call all dark, lingering shades—those who die without crossing over and wander the thickets—"Darkling Spirit." They are all those who perish with grievances, clinging to the mortal world with their resentment unsevered and their lingering affections unextinguished. Thus, they haunt the mists of the great wild for all eternity. Night after night in the deepest darkness, their spirits arise and reenact the past, forming an unending loop of calamity through ten thousand ages and a thousand kalpas. The mountain folk say: any who encounter the "Darkling Spirit" do so because of bonds from a former life, a debt of accumulated ages stretching into this life without end.
The crowd nods in wonder. Only a little boy grows curious, asking the location of the sacred temple, listening so intently that the pink sweet falls from his mouth—unnoticed.
- The peak of Mau Son.
The elder finishes speaking, and the little boy darts out like an arrow from a bow. Viet Thanh the elder hurries after him, calling:
- Wait until the morrow!
The lad gazes at the night sky, scratches his head and laughs, then follows his teacher into the wayside inn. On the morrow, before the light breaks, he rises and shoulders his cloth satchel. The teacher is already seated before the tea, waiting long since.
The lad remains silent, takes tea to dampen a cloth and wipe his face, then drinks deep to rouse his spirit, letting out a joyful cry as he walks with the teacher.
As the light half-breaks, travelers arrive from the four quarters in a ceaseless flow. The crowd journeys far to Loc Binh county, and from there toward Chi Ma, they must turn left. The forest is deep and the path narrow, impassable for horse or carriage; one must walk for half-an-hour to reach the ancient sacred temple. Most take the level path to climb Mau Son, but the little boy wishes to scale a different peak first:
- Teacher, I wish to climb the mountain to strengthen my legs.
The teacher nods his consent and bids him walk warily. The little boy answers with a laugh and runs toward the gathered peaks. The summits rise one after another, meeting the blue-grey clouds.
The terrain is rugged, strewn with stones and mired in mud. The elder and the little boy press onward with halting steps for several watches, climbing down and scrambling up, until they reach the place where the vestiges of an ancient temple roofed with yin-yang tiles still remain.
The path leading to the ruins had once been overgrown with moss and grass, the way all green beneath their spread; about it, creeping vines had cast their tendrils, sending roots from without into the sacred temple.
Ever since the legend of Mau Son has spread, Yen Van has ordered his retainers to sweep and restore it, yet the bloodstains within the shrine have remained. He has desired these stains to be etched for future generations, so that the matters of Mau Son may not fade. Any who have come to this place have found their spirit-hearts stirred.
Thien enters the crowd, beholding the blood-stained stone slab before the sanctuary. He looks to the four quarters, takes a tome from his cloth satchel, and records every word of the inscription beside the slab into the tome:
"According to the legends of the Red Dao people of Mau Son, every branch, blade of grass, and stone within the ancient shrine is imbued with spiritual essence, and no mortal may show it disrespect. In times past, in Lap Pìa village of Lộc Bình county, a Red Dao man hunted until dusk. He took a strange stone from the peak of Mau Son and brought it home to serve as a cooking hearth.
At dawn, he saw blood flowing upon the stone. In great terror, he bore the stone back to the mountain and begged for the deity's forgiveness.
The legend of the Red Dao folk flows forevermore, a caution to later kin: take not the things therein, destroy not the Mau Son.
To the Red Dao folk, the ground where the sacred spirit-stone lies and its surrounding reaches are all a hallowed realm, inviolable. From this legend, a series of stone temples arise in Mau Son, thus giving rise to a tradition of spiritual devotion[4]"
The state of the custom lies hidden within the murals upon the rock reliefs. These are the life-blood of the artisans, who hope this legend remains undying.
At the opening of the legend, desolate mountain passes and wind-swept ridges accompany the steep, inverted ascents strewn with gravel. Mountain passes and steep slopes cut through forests and cross streams on the way to Mau Son, like a flock of children nestling into the arms of a gentle mother.
For a thousand years, around the Mau Son, countless peaks great and small stretch without end beneath the boundless sea of clouds. The towering craggy mountains lie cloaked within ancient woodlands, thickly carpeted in moss.
The mountains and forests lie in slumber, veiled in drifting mist or snow that whitens the vast expanse of space. As mist scatters and snow vanishes, the dim realm then reveals the verdant pine forests where a winding single-track road meanders. Beside this lone path stands a sheer cliff rising vertically, overlooking the abyss.
The terrain leading to the highest peak is perilous; each day, the Mother leads her descendants down to the place of reunion—the jade-peach valley at the foot of the mountain near the Ky Cung River.
Waiting with sorrowful thoughts, the shadow of the Father finally sank like a stone into the sea. The lone Mother holds the child, climbing the heights to gaze far toward the north—the land where the Father fights the war.
The Mother keeps waiting, still gazing again, until youth is spent. All things bloom and bear fruit amidst the pink and crimson peach blossoms, the Father returns with victory. Yet the joy of reunion turns into the grief of the kin-clan.
Feeling this luckless fate, the artisan paints white snow covering the Father's frame, embracing the children and nephews, as he prostrates upon the ground and wails before the Mother's tomb. The guest from afar is filled with melancholy, hot tears brimming in the eyes, as they silently depart this land of bitter pain.
Little Thien understands not why the multitude is moved to such passion. To him, the rock reliefs are but an ancient thing he desires to see with his own eyes. He scrutinizes the grain and the carvings of Mau Son beneath the summer sun painted thereon.
The fierce sun parches the plains, yet the wonder is, the breath within the trees of Mau Son is cool as deep autumn. Just as the clouds and mist suddenly gather and scatter, scattering and gathering again, the air is slightly cold. Daily the clouds scatter or gather, lingering amidst the mid-mountain before ascending to the highest peak of Lang Chau.
The cloud-layers step by step go up the mountain, desiring to see with their own eyes the Mother's blood of grievance flowing as a brook, the Father's tears of remorse turning into a river.
At the crest of Mau Son, rivers and brooks gallop down into the lands of the primordial hills, gathering where only withered grass, blighted trees, and barren fields remain. The villagers cannot endure the hardships, and in great numbers, they forsake their kin-homes for lands unknown.
The mockery of fate lies in this: after they depart, the rivers and brooks repeatedly revive the life-force of Mau Son. Since then, the Mother Mountain becomes a wonder of creation.
Around it, ancient primeval forests enfold the hills and mountains, where rivers and streams interweave like a labyrinth.
By the sublime craft of hewing, the labyrinth of those exquisite carvings appears and vanishes by turns before the teacher and disciple. Thien rubs the eyes and watches, beholding the carvings of rivers and brooks spread everywhere.
The wonder lies in this: the many rivers within the mural are far different from the true realm: flowing not to the west, but gathering toward the southeast—the very place where the hut of the nomadic man upon Buddha's Finger Mountain stands. Thien scratches the head and asks:
- Teacher, why is this shrine so strange? I have never seen such things! Why do people not make everything as it truly dwells in nature, but prefer to create the unnatural? These carvings are truly a turmoil, without any interest!
The teacher watches it from left to right, a rare smile flits across his face. He bids the disciple scrutinize the various details in the painting. Thien knows the teacher tests his power of sight, nodding the head repeatedly, pressing the eyes to the wall, observing every minute part without a single oversight.
After a moment, Thien slightly curls his lips, seeing that the rivers and brooks (though carved with errors) yet connect to one another, turning into the shape of a Lac Bird. He wears a smile, yet the brows are knitted, watching those carvings of rivers and brooks in the shape of a Lac Bird that are dyed black. Thien again scratches the head, understanding not why the craft of hewing is so far removed from the true realm.
- Teacher, dyeing the water black, is this the custom of hewing in this land?
The teacher shakes his head. Thien raises his hand and points to the jet-black carved lines. The teacher's eyes draw near the wall, scrutinizing the contours of the river and stream depictions.
Age has eroded the pigments, and the edges are fractured, yet the image of the Lac bird still soars high, its beak gazing down upon the celestial sanctum. This celestial sanctum is built atop the former abode of the Celestial Maiden and her husband.
Viet Thanh notes that the celestial sanctum's form resembles a high tower piercing the clouds. Outside the celestial sanctum, stairs are set beside two walls, leading to the eaves. The left roof is flat, while the right eaves present the posture of a phoenix staring into the distance.
The architecture of the buildings here is vastly different from the various reaches the old man has witnessed. From the construction to the adornments, all are as one, yet many things here remain utterly unrelated: the image of a phoenix is carved upon the eaves, while the rivers and streams turn into the form of Lac birds as they flow toward the celestial sanctum.
Surveying the celestial sanctum's carvings, wave and billow motifs are visible everywhere. Viet Thanh stares intently, suddenly discovering that all the various rock reliefs seem to possess a common point — they are naught if not related to "water."
The celestial sanctum is straight as a tower, with two flights of stairs leading to two eaves — embodying the word "water" (水) within the five elements. "Water" pervades all around the celestial sanctum, from the rivers and streams to the Lac bird imagery: they represent the wet-rice culture of the ancient era and are also closely linked to the life of the nomadic man.
The Lac bird points its beak toward the celestial sanctum, as if awaiting someone's visit; and the image of the phoenix, in another mythos, always possesses a myriad of ties to water. The artisan could never have carved the entirety of these water-related matters without intent. Viet Thanh turns and asks the shrine keeper:
- Might I ask who built this celestial sanctum and carved these rock reliefs?
The temple keeper replies:
- According to folk legends, thirty years after the nomadic man and Hoa Dung vanished, a band of strangers has appeared at Mau Son. They have come to build the celestial sanctum and carve the adornments, but they have paid no heed to all that surrounds them. No matter what they are asked, their replies have been brief and vague, without beginning or end, as if they fear something. Their coming and going have been like the wind; no one has known where they dwell, nor has anyone known for certain when they depart.
The old man silently accepts the words he speaks, then urgently asks:
- What are their appearance and raiment like?
The shrine keeper appears somewhat struck with wonder. From antiquity until now, countless folk have asked of the celestial sanctum's builders, but none have inquired after their countenances and raiment.
- Like all others, they have worn ordinary raiment and have possessed mundane faces.
These words are most vague, yet at least it is certain that these folk from afar built the celestial sanctum and carved the rock reliefs. The old man has traveled through many reaches and seen all manner of strange tales, yet he has never seen anyone build a temple and celestial sanctum for strangers.
Perhaps these folk who built the celestial sanctum possess some tie to that legendary tale. The inquiry repeatedly sinks into a realm without answer.
The old man swiftly gathers Thien the lad and walks out of the celestial sanctum. He scratches his head and asks. The teacher does not answer; instead, he focuses on leading the disciple toward the Phat Chi (Buddha's Finger) Mountain.
Footnote
[1] Cao Loc District is located in the northern part of Lang Son Province. It borders Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, China to the north and east, Loc Binh and Chi Lang districts to the south, and Van Lang and Van Quan districts to the west.
[2] Chi Ma is the location of the Chi Ma Border Gate, situated within Chi Ma Village, Yen Khoai Commune, Loc Binh District, Lang Son Province, Vietnam. The Chi Ma Border Gate connects with the Aidian Border Gate in Ningming County, Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, China, where Border Marker No. 1223 is located. This border gate serves as the terminus of Provincial Road 236, located approximately 13 km northeast of Loc Binh Town along this route.
[3] This ancient temple was among the sites explored by History Professor Tran Quoc Vuong before his passing in 2005.
[4] Since the early 20th century, this legend has been circulating among the people of the Mau Son region. The site of the Sacred Stone and its surrounding areas gradually became the Mau Son Sacred Land, featuring ancient temples and stone tombs, and is regarded as a "holy site" of complete vestigial significance. Simultaneously, it serves as a center for the religious and spiritual activities of local ethnic groups.
The temple is dedicated to the Mountain Deity of Mau Son — Duc Ton Than Quang Mau Cong Tinh, Hung Tran Dai Vuong, Thuong Dang Phuc Than.
Before the 1920s, local residents still regularly embarked on pilgrimages to this sacred ground for worship. Nguyen Nghiem recorded the Mau Son Temple located in Khuat Xa Commune in his 1758 work, "Lang Son Doan Thanh Do Thu" (The Records of Lang Son Garrison City).
"Dai Nam Nhat Thong Chi" (The Comprehensive Encyclopedia of Unified Dai Nam) also contains records regarding the Mau Son Temple. According to the 2003 scientific report by the Lang Son General Museum on the research and excavation results of the Mau Son ruins, the site possesses a long history, spanning from approximately the 10th to the 20th century AD.
Note: Thai Quang, Sang Linh, and U Tinh are the Vietnamese names of the Three Souls (三魂) in Daoist tradition: 胎光,爽灵,幽精.