A Tale Of A Scribe Who Retires To The Countryside [EN]: Chapter 347

347. The Palace Lord of the Potala Palace

The center of Lhasa bustled with a vibrant mix of people, carriages, and pilgrims arriving and departing.

Some pilgrims prostrated themselves in full-body bows, their faces radiating devotion, while others simply walked along the road. Carriage drivers, however, often wore annoyed expressions as they navigated around the pilgrims who inevitably obstructed traffic.

Lhasa was a sprawling city where religion and reality, the ideal and the everyday, were inextricably intertwined.

As they journeyed through the central street, adorned with a flamboyant display of colorful flags, Seorin, No-gun, Dang Wora, and even a now-appeased Sa Suyun couldn’t help but marvel at the sights around them.

Hwang Bang-ju shared their awe, perhaps even more so, as he was revisiting these sights after more than a decade.

“Ah! Look at that!” Seorin exclaimed, tugging on Son-bin’s arm. She had a habit of grabbing his arm whenever she spotted something interesting, usually a unique Tibetan food or an eye-catching piece of local attire.

Thanks to Seorin’s enthusiasm, Son-bin, who had been preoccupied with worries about the future, found himself enjoying some unexpected sightseeing in Lhasa.

“Wow, that woman is beautiful.”

Seorin’s comment drew Son-bin’s attention. Indeed, a strikingly beautiful young woman was chatting with her friends on the street.

‘This truly is a major city,’ Son-bin thought to himself, impressed.

Before arriving in Lhasa, most of the women he had encountered in this region had darker complexions and ruddy cheeks, a result of the high-altitude climate.

When combined with their elaborate decorations and clothing, they often appeared as rustic country women, at least in Son-bin’s eyes. This wasn’t to say they lacked beauty; rather, their bright smiles, even in the face of a harsh environment, exuded a robust and healthy charm.

However, here in Lhasa, perhaps due to its status as a major city, the women’s skin tones were lighter, and their attire and adornments were considerably more refined.

‘Now that I think about it, the Princess…’

He realized that the Potala Princess was quite different from the other young women he had seen. In fact, she was so obviously raised with exceptional care that any comparison seemed impossible.

“Is she really that pretty?” Sa Suyun’s voice snapped Son-bin out of his thoughts. He instinctively began to formulate an excuse, but No-gun interjected.

“Ahem, of course, not as much as Youngmae.”

Son-bin turned to see not only No-gun but also Hwang Bang-ju clearing their throats and looking away.

He now noticed that all four men had been observing the woman. It was no wonder Sa Suyun had felt the need to comment.

Feeling a bit sheepish, Son-bin also subtly averted his gaze, but then Seorin shouted again.

“That looks delicious!”

This time, everyone’s eyes followed Seorin’s pointing finger. A food stall was serving steaming dishes, attracting a crowd of eager customers. It seemed that the allure of delicious food was universal.

‘Somehow, my stomach…’

Son-bin swallowed, suddenly feeling hungry. He realized that he had been eating mostly temple food until now, and his exposure to the local cuisine was severely limited.

“Can’t we stop and eat?” Seorin asked, prompting Son-bin to look back at Hwang Bang-ju. However, Hwang Bang-ju shook his head with a regretful expression.

“If we stop here, it will cause a commotion.”

Hwang Bang-ju glanced towards the Princess’s carriage.

As they entered Lhasa, the Princess’s carriage hadn’t attracted much attention. More extravagant carriages passed by frequently. This helped to conceal the Princess of Potala’s presence.

Even so, it was still clearly a distinguished carriage. If it were to stop on this central street, it would only be a matter of time before her identity was revealed and a crowd gathered.

Clatter, clatter.

Leaving their culinary desires behind, the group’s carriage continued through the central street and arrived at a wide avenue, almost a square, in front of the Potala Palace.

“Wow, it’s beautiful!” Seorin exclaimed, gazing up at the Potala Palace. Seen up close, the palace was even more striking in its beauty and grandeur.

Son-bin, however, was equally captivated by the avenue stretching out before the palace. It reminded him of a similar avenue in front of the Imperial Palace in Beijing.

“What, so what we saw wasn’t the entire palace?” No-gun remarked, dampening Seorin’s enthusiasm. The Potala Palace was built on a hill, and much of the height they had observed consisted of the stairs and walls leading up the hillside.

Meanwhile, the warrior guarding the Princess approached the monks who guarded the Potala Palace. He respectfully put his hands together, presented something, and spoke. The monks returned the gesture and allowed the carriage to pass.

Clatter, clatter.

As they passed through the palace entrance, which seemed narrow compared to the Imperial Palace in Beijing, the carriage came to a halt. The monks escorted the Princess out of the carriage with practiced movements.

“They say we should get off here too,” Hwang Bang-ju announced.

Following his instructions, Son-bin and his group alighted from the carriage. The surrounding monks cast fierce glares at the group, but No-gun simply snorted and ignored them. Seorin, completely absorbed in the palace’s splendor, seemed oblivious to the tension.

The warriors guarding the Princess approached and guided Son-bin and his group with respectful gestures. Son-bin followed the Princess as they began their ascent of the Potala Palace.

“Ah, so the stone itself isn’t white. They painted it?” Seorin observed, her curiosity piqued. Son-bin, who had already suspected this, nodded. But No-gun, ever the cynic, poured cold water on her observation.

“They did a sloppy job of painting it too. Are they short on funds?”

Son-bin offered a wry smile. No-gun’s assessment was accurate. While the walls were generally white, there were numerous discolored patches. Even to Son-bin, the paint job appeared less than meticulous.

Perhaps the color of the Potala Palace held little significance.

Son-bin and his group climbed the long stairs and reached the Potala Palace, perched atop the hill. The golden roof gleamed in the sunlight above the red and white building, which resembled a fortress.

“The building in the center is the Red Palace. The surrounding structures are the White Palace,” Hwang Bang-ju explained, pointing to the different sections.

“The Red Palace is primarily used for religious ceremonies. The White Palace is the residence of the Bodhicitta [a being on the path to Buddhahood]. We will likely proceed directly to the White Palace.”

Hwang Bang-ju lowered his voice.

“It is extremely unusual for a foreigner to enter the White Palace. Please be mindful of your behavior inside.”

His earnestness was palpable, but No-gun seemed unfazed.

Son-bin was relieved that Okryong was no longer present as they entered the Potala White Palace, painted entirely in white.

As they stepped inside, maids dressed in robes similar to those worn by monks greeted the Princess and Son-bin’s group. The warriors who had been guarding the Princess were not permitted to enter the White Palace.

“They say we should wait a moment,” Hwang Bang-ju translated the maid’s words. The Princess, without acknowledging Son-bin’s group, departed with the maids, and the group was led to a nearby room.

“There are chairs here?” No-gun remarked, sounding surprised. The room contained chairs, a rare sight in this region. The cushions were thick and inviting.

‘They built it for Princess Munseong [a Tang Dynasty princess who married a Tibetan king], so that must be why?’ Son-bin mused, observing the room’s interior, which felt strangely familiar. Perhaps because it wasn’t a temple, the decoration of the Potala White Palace was reminiscent of styles he had seen before.

To be precise, it felt like a fusion of styles, which made sense given that the Potala Palace was originally built for Princess Munseong.

After a short wait, the maids brought tea – Tibetan-style butter tea. Son-bin and his group relaxed in a comfortable position for the first time in a while.

Click.

After some time, a middle-aged maid entered and bowed politely.

“Young Master Son, please follow me.”

Her pronunciation was slightly awkward, but her Central Plains language was fluent.

“Me?” Son-bin asked, surprised. The maid simply bowed her head and remained silent.

“Go and come back. I suppose she has something more to say in the meantime,” No-gun grumbled, while Hwang Bang-ju shrugged, equally clueless about the customs and procedures of the Potala Palace, especially the White Palace.

“I understand,” Son-bin replied, rising from his seat.

“Come back, Brother,” Seorin said, waving goodbye. Sa Suyun and Dang Wora offered slight nods. Son-bin returned the gesture and followed the maid out of the room.

Step, step.

The White Palace was not a particularly complex structure. Son-bin walked behind the maid, taking in the sights of the White Palace. He knew he might not have another opportunity like this.

‘It’s really similar. But…’

As he expected, the style was similar to the Imperial Palace he had seen before. However, Son-bin noticed that the interior of the White Palace was somewhat, no, quite disorganized.

The decorations were old, and the colors were faded. He even saw places where sections of the door had fallen off and remained unrepaired. While it seemed like they were making an effort to maintain the palace, he couldn’t shake the impression that the White Palace was generally old and shabby.

‘Do they really not have money?’

No-gun’s words echoed in his mind. The White Palace was far from splendid, despite being the residence of the Palace Lord of Potala, the pinnacle of Tibetan Buddhism and the owner of Bodhicitta.

‘Or perhaps they are embracing a simple life.’

He wondered if he was being prejudiced. Even in Central Plains Buddhism, highly respected monks often lived simple lives.

Son-bin cautioned himself against hasty judgments. As he pondered this, he stopped in front of a large door.

The maid bowed to Son-bin and stepped back, leaving him alone before the imposing entrance.

‘What? Are they telling me to go in?’

Son-bin felt a bit apprehensive but subtly pushed the door open.

Squeak.

The door creaked open louder than he anticipated. Son-bin stepped inside.

‘Huh?’

He found himself in a large room, decorated in a familiar style, with a raised platform at the far end and a large, long chair placed upon it.

The chair was adorned with gold and red embellishments, but the colors appeared somewhat faded. However, it wasn’t the room or the chair that puzzled Son-bin.

It was the child monk, wearing the red robes characteristic of Tibetan Buddhism, sitting diagonally on the chair.

‘A kid?’

The child monk, who appeared to be around twelve years old, was leaning against the ornate chair, engrossed in reading a scripture inscribed on a long piece of paper.

Son-bin couldn’t be certain, but in his eyes, the monk was still just a child.

‘Could it be…’

Just then, the child monk looked up from his book. It seemed he had only now noticed someone entering the room.

“Oh.”

The child monk looked at Son-bin and let out a small exclamation. He straightened his posture and spoke, but in the Tibetan language.

When Son-bin didn’t understand, the child monk seemed to realize something and smiled.

“Ah, right, you are a stranger from the East.”

The child monk spoke in surprisingly fluent Central Plains language.

“I will forgive the rudeness. After all, you are not from here.”

The child monk spoke, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“You can come closer. I am… Ah, should I say it like this?”

The child monk, about to speak in Tibetan, paused and smiled. With an air of generosity, he looked down at Son-bin and continued.

“The Palace Lord of Potala Palace, the noble leader, soon to be the owner of all Bodhicitta.”

Son-bin’s hunch had been correct. The child before him was the pinnacle of Tibetan Buddhism, the Palace Lord of Potala Palace, the ruler of this land, the owner of Bodhicitta.

As Son-bin stood there, momentarily speechless, the child monk, no, the owner of Bodhicitta, gestured with his hand, beckoning him closer.

“Hurry.”

Son-bin had anticipated that the Palace Lord would be young, but he was still surprised. Regaining his composure, he carefully approached.

Step.

The Potala Palace Lord observed Son-bin with an inquisitive gaze.

“I heard that you are the incarnation of the Eight Divisions of the Dragon [a group of deities in Buddhist cosmology], but you are quite different from what I expected. I thought you would be a more… how should I put it, impressive person.”

Son-bin offered a wry smile. If it were Saja Hyuk, he would have undoubtedly made a lasting impression that would have satisfied even this young owner of Bodhicitta.

“It is an honor to meet the owner of Bodhicitta. My name is Son-bin.”

With a respectful demeanor, Son-bin put his hands together and bowed deeply. While the people here might perform a full-body prostration, Son-bin had no intention of doing so. He wasn’t a Buddhist, after all.

The young owner of Bodhicitta seemed indifferent to Son-bin’s greeting. He waved his hand dismissively and then looked at Son-bin with excited eyes.

“Hmm.”

The Palace Lord scrutinized Son-bin from every angle. Because the chair was high, his feet didn’t reach the floor and dangled in the air. The sight reminded Son-bin of children in the Seowon [traditional Korean private academy], and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I heard that you are a great strategist.”

The young Palace Lord asked, swinging his feet. His clear eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“I heard that you can influence the fate of the world. Is that true?”

“That is not true. I am merely an ordinary scholar who knows a little about swords,” Son-bin replied with a smile.

“Really?” The young Palace Lord tilted his head, looking puzzled. It seemed strange because it contradicted what he had heard.

“Then what are you good at?”

His tone was mature, but the question was as direct as a child’s. The sight was so endearing that Son-bin smiled.

“I know swords, and I can play the Chilhyun-geum [a seven-stringed zither] a little.”

“Ah, the Chilhyun-geum!” The young Palace Lord exclaimed with delight.

“There is a Chilhyun-geum here too, but there is no one who can play it properly. I asked a maid to try it, but it made a very strange sound. Can you play it for me sometime later?”

“Of course,” Son-bin replied, bowing his head.

The young Palace Lord’s words were fluent, but there was something slightly awkward about them. It was as if he had learned to speak from a book, and an old one at that.

‘He must have received a strict education.’

And the person who taught the Palace Lord was likely an old, high-ranking monk. It was only natural that he had a mature tone that didn’t match his age.

The young Palace Lord looked down at Son-bin with a satisfied gaze.

“I heard that you know swords, enjoy playing the Chilhyun-geum, and have beautiful women with you…”

Son-bin offered a wry smile at the young Palace Lord’s words. The phrase “having beautiful women” must have come from the Potala Princess.

‘But when did the Princess ever see Lady Wora’s face?’

As he pondered this, Son-bin attempted to correct the young Palace Lord’s misunderstanding. However, the young Palace Lord smiled and said,

“You must be the incarnation of Gandharva [a celestial musician in Buddhist mythology].”

‘Gandharva?’

The name wasn’t familiar, but he knew there was a deity with that name among the Eight Divisions of the Dragon. As he resolved to inquire about Gandharva later, the young Palace Lord continued.

“You look a little disappointing, but the world is not always what it seems. Besides, if the Princess judged so, there is no need to say more. I don’t possess the same abilities as her, but I can at least discern that you are not consumed by base greed.”

The young Palace Lord spoke with a surprisingly mature tone. Just as Son-bin was smiling wryly, feeling like he was watching a child play at being an adult, it happened.

“Yes, strange Gandharva from the distant East.”

Whoong.

The young Palace Lord’s eyes began to glow with a golden light.

It wasn’t just an intense gaze or a meaningful look. Brilliant golden light actually emanated from the young Palace Lord’s eyes.

“Will you be my guardian deity?”

He was no longer a young child monk or a child pretending to be an adult. The Palace Lord spoke with clear golden eyes.

“Will you destroy all the foolish ones who block my path and make me ascend to the honorable position where I rightfully belong?”

The Palace Lord’s voice was not loud, but it contained a subtle resonance, like thunder echoing in the sky.

It was as if the faded room of the White Palace had transformed into the heart of a vast temple. The young Palace Lord’s voice echoed and reverberated.

“Answer. You, Gandharva.”

Woo Woong.

The Palace Lord’s eyes, shimmering with golden light, were fixed on Son-bin.

It was a supremely mysterious and majestic, yet chillingly cold gaze that seemed to look down on everything in the world.

(Author’s words)

Turning on the high beams to oncoming traffic is a violation of etiquette. It hurts my eyes.