At noon, after walking about thirty miles, they indeed arrived at a village with shops. When they inquired about Ciyun Temple, everyone knew of it and said it was not far. It turned out that many of the local households were cultivating temple lands. The group hastily had some food and drinks, leaving only Xiaosan to guard their belongings at the inn, and the rest headed towards Ciyun Temple. After walking about half a mile, they saw a lush forest with towering trees, and a glimpse of red walls appeared. A breeze passed by, and faintly they could hear the sound of Buddhist chanting, confirming that it was indeed a serene and blessed place for meditation.
Upon reaching the temple gate, they entered and were welcomed by a guest monk who served them light refreshments and tea. After some courteous conversation, the monk led them to tour the Buddha Hall and the meditation rooms. The guest monk, named Liaoyi, was eloquent and refined in his speech, and his hospitality greatly pleased the group. After exploring for half a day, Liaoyi led them to a meditation room for a rest. The room was elegantly furnished, with calligraphy and paintings by famous artists on the walls, and neatly arranged writing materials on the table. On the western side of the room, there were two meditation cushions made of summer cloth, which were said to be used for quiet meditation at night.
The group wanted to meet the abbot for a conversation. Liaoyi explained, "My master, Zhitong, is meditating in the back courtyard and avoids worldly interactions, rarely coming out. If you are fated, you may meet him another day." Hearing this, everyone expressed their admiration. Song Shi then noticed a painting hanging in an awkward position and was about to ask Liaoyi why it was placed there when suddenly a young novice monk came in and said, "The abbot requests to speak with the guest monk." Liaoyi quickly told the group, "The layout of the temple is quite intricate, and it's easy to get lost. Please wait for me to return, and I will continue the tour with you." With that, he hurriedly left.
Song Shi then turned to Yun Cong and said, "Look at the arrangement of this temple and the guest monk's demeanor, how elegant and sophisticated. This meditation room is so well decorated, filled with calligraphy and paintings by renowned artists, yet this one wall is adorned with such a vulgar painting. Isn't this like defiling a sacred place?"
The meditation room was quite spacious, with windows on the east and a door to the south. On the western wall hung a horizontal scroll of Mi Xiangyang's *Rain and Mist* painting, and on the northern wall hung a central scroll of Fang Xiaoru's *White Stones and Green Pines*, accompanied by a couplet composed of Song dynasty lines: "How many lifetimes did the green mandarin ducks bloom in the orchid temple? The white cranes sometimes visit their descendants." The inscription was by a young scholar from Sichuan named Zhang Yi. However, the only thing hanging above the meditation bed was a central scroll depicting the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea, with crude strokes and an artisanal feel. The group had been so engrossed in conversation with Liaoyi earlier that they hadn't noticed it. But after Song Shi pointed it out, everyone turned to discuss it.
Yun Cong, who was sitting on the bed, turned around and noticed a chime mallet lying beneath the painting. He picked it up casually to play with it, but accidentally bumped the lower part of the Eight Immortals painting. The nail it hung on seemed old and loose, and with the vibration from the mallet, a section of the wall recessed, about a person's height and a foot wide, revealing a small chime hanging inside. No one understood why the chime had been hidden there. Song Shi, standing by the bed, took the mallet from Yun Cong and, in a moment of excitement, struck the chime. The sound was crisp and pleasant, so he struck it twice more. Just then, a young monk peeked in and said, "Brother Song, stop messing around with other people's things. If the guest monk returns, it will be awkward."
Before he finished speaking, three bell chimes sounded, followed by a creaking noise. Suddenly, a small door appeared on the wall, and standing in the doorway was a woman dressed in bright clothes. Upon seeing the group, she gasped and quickly retreated. Song Shi exclaimed, "So there's a hidden door here, and they're hiding a woman. That abbot must be no good! Why don't we go in and give that bald fraud a piece of our mind and demand some compensation?" Yun Cong replied, "Brother, hold on. Before I left home, the old servant Wang Fu warned me that when visiting temples, one should not wander without guidance. Many monks outwardly seem detached from worldly desires, but secretly they engage in all sorts of evil. If we accidentally uncover their wrongdoings, it could provoke their murderous intent. This temple is supposed to be a place of pure meditation, so why are there hidden mechanisms and a woman concealed inside? It's best not to meddle. If they become enraged, we're all scholars and may suffer a loss that we cannot afford."
After hearing this, the group fell into heated discussion. Suddenly, a scholar named Shi said, "Yun Cong, you're so busy talking that you didn't notice—the door we came through is gone!" Everyone turned around and, to their astonishment, the door they had entered through had vanished, replaced by a dark wall. The paintings that had hung on the wall were also gone. Panic-stricken, they rushed forward to push against the wall, but it was solid, as immovable as if they were trying to shake a stone pillar. Now, the only exit was the small door above the meditation bed. Everyone grew more frightened.
Yun Cong then said, "We've been foolish. Since there is no door, why don't we just escape through the window?" This suggestion snapped everyone out of their panic, and they rushed to the window. But to their dismay, they discovered that although the window had four panes, it was latched from the outside. Worse yet, the entire window was made of solid iron, with intricate swastika-shaped patterns, each as thick as two fingers, painted red so that they had not noticed earlier. Frantically, they pounded on the walls, but their hands soon grew sore, and no one outside responded.
Only now did this group of young scholars realize they were in a perilous situation. Some blamed Song Shi for striking the chime, others cursed the monks for their improper behavior. Two braver members of the group said, "We are all scholars, and there are many of us. Surely they wouldn't dare harm us. Let's wait for the guest monk to return; he will surely get us out." The room was filled with noise and chaos, everyone talking at once. Yun Cong, growing annoyed with the clamor, finally said, "Now that we've reached this point, we have no idea what fate awaits us. Complaining and arguing won't help. We should remain calm and think of a way to get out of here."
After those words were spoken, the room fell silent once again. Everyone furrowed their brows, deep in thought but unable to come up with a plan. Only Song Shi stared at the small door on the wall in a daze. Suddenly, he said, "My friends, if it is fortune, we cannot avoid it, and if it is misfortune, we cannot escape it. Now that there is no way out and no one is paying attention to us, how long can we hold out? In my opinion, we should go through this small door, meet with the abbot, and explain everything clearly. We can tell him that we accidentally stumbled upon the hidden mechanisms and ask him to let us go. After all, we haven't damaged anything, and we are merely travelers passing by. Even though we've uncovered his secret, we would never spread it. We are all scholars with titles—surely, he wouldn't dare to kill all of us? Once we leave this temple, the story will be ours to write."
The group listened to his words, and after some lively discussion, they realized they had no better option. So, Song Shi took the lead, and everyone followed behind, entering through the small door one by one, with Yun Cong bringing up the rear. After they passed through the door, they descended more than ten steps and found themselves in a long, dark corridor, as if walking between walls. Every fifty paces or so, there was a small oil lamp, faintly illuminating the path. After walking for about a hundred paces, they ascended another set of ten steps, where a faint light could be seen ahead. Climbing up, they emerged into a grotto, which opened up into a spacious area filled with rare and exotic flowers, arranged with elegant precision. Moving from the darkness into the light, the group's eyes were momentarily dazzled. Despite the abundance of flowers and plants, given their uncertain fate, no one was in the mood to admire the scenery.
Just as they were about to move forward, a strange laugh echoed: "Quite the refined company of guests!" The sound startled them, and when they looked ahead, they saw a large hall. Sitting cross-legged on the stone steps of the hall was a large monk with a fierce expression, his body imposing, bare-chested, and barefoot. Beside him was a pile of cymbals used for rituals. Next to him stood two women, each about twenty years old, heavily made up and wearing large red cloaks.
Song Shi quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, saying, "Master, please accept my respects." The fierce monk paid him no heed, keeping his eyes closed and remaining silent. Song Shi tried again, "We are all scholars traveling through, and the guest monk of your esteemed temple kindly showed us around. By accident, we triggered a hidden mechanism and lost our way. We respectfully request your help in guiding us out. If you do so, we promise not to mention a word of this incident to anyone. What do you think, Master?" Still, the fierce monk and the two women stood with their hands clasped, eyes closed, saying nothing.
After waiting for a moment, Song Shi repeated himself, but the monk remained unresponsive. At this, the scholar named Shi, growing impatient, shouted, "Monk! How dare you act this way! As a man of religion, how can you secretly set traps and hide women within the temple? We are all scholars on our way to the capital for the imperial examination. If you release us now, we won't say a word about this. But if you refuse, once we're free, we'll report your illegal activities to the authorities!"
They fully expected the fierce monk to be frightened by these words and to let them go. But to their surprise, the monk opened his eyes and sneered, "You bunch of penniless scholars. There is a path to heaven, yet you refuse to take it. There is no door to hell, but you've come right in. Let me help you all on your way!"
Realizing the danger, the group exchanged glances and prepared to rush forward and force their way out. But before they could act, the monk gave a wicked smile, picked up the cymbals beside him, and struck them once. Suddenly, the group found their arms seized by unknown hands. To their horror, they saw that dozens of fierce-looking monks had appeared out of nowhere. Some held the group down while others brandished sharp knives. In a matter of moments, all seventeen of them were bound and thrown to the ground. Soon, ten more fierce monks brought out wooden stakes and tied them to the stakes about ten paces away from the great hall. The large monk struck the cymbals twice more, and the other monks retreated.
At this point, everyone was utterly terrified, their courage shattered. Many fainted from fear. Only Yun Cong, who had a slightly braver heart, knew there was no way out and resigned himself to his fate. He suddenly thought of his elderly parents and uncles back home, all relying on him to carry on the family line. The weight of his responsibilities overwhelmed him, and he deeply regretted his youthful impulsiveness that had led him into such a disaster, dashing not only his own hopes but also those of his family and friends. Overcome with sorrow, he burst into tears.
Seeing Yun Cong weeping so bitterly, the fierce monk laughed heartily and said to the two women standing beside him, "Look at these worthless scholars. Normally, they act high and mighty, playing the tyrant in their homes. But now that they're caught, they've turned into sniveling children, like babies without their mothers. Why don't you go down and perform for them, give them something to cheer them up?"
The women replied, "As you command," and threw off their large red cloaks, revealing their bodies as white as jade. Completely naked, they jumped into the courtyard and began to dance. Their snow-white thighs moved with graceful ease, each step revealing tantalizing glimpses. The only thing they had been wearing was the cloak; compared to modern dancers who still wear a bit of cloth, these women were far more provocative.
The fierce monk struck the cymbals several more times, and from both sides of the hall, a group of monks playing musical instruments appeared, joining in the grotesque spectacle. The sound of music and laughter filled the courtyard, and the souls of the seventeen bound scholars slowly began to stir back to consciousness.