Yangzong was now blossoming into a slim young woman. For Tulku Jianggong, although the accessories on Yangzong's body weren't that precious, from her head down to her waist she still looked particularly dazzling and enchanting. However, the gods had already decided the distance between him and Yangzong, and he could not leave his seat and merge into the sea of joy below him, nor could he let his own heart be like a monkey in the tree, looking left and right in search of the traces of her. He needed to calm himself and be like his own master Tulku Dapu, devoted and focused, cultivating his moral character and purifying his ways.
Tulku Jianggong had heard that a few days ago a person who had left to herd horses had come back and said that Yangzong's father Luosang had been driven to a desolate area by a gang of robbers and then sold on to act as a house slave to an owner of livestock. Perhaps he was still alive, but perhaps he was dead.
All he wanted to know was whether there had been any news about Luosang. Ah, poor sister Yangzong, she was like a bird without wings, or a deer without hooves.
From his lofty seat he saw that Yangzong and a few girls had surrounded the Han Chinese Zhao. He probably had many of the girls' favourite items, like a scarf, or a mirror, or a piece of jewellery or even a handful of salt. Tulku Jianggong even felt that this Han horse driver was even more well-regarded than the men who had made a name for themselves in the horse races. But he felt as if this man wasn't bad and this caravan leader possessed new knowledge that he didn't know, and had gone to places that he had never reached even in his wildest dreams. For example, India was a Buddhist paradise, and not even Tulku Dapu had been there yet.
8
Yet another spring ended and yet another summer began. On the plains, the colour that had been sleeping over the long winter gradually became richer. All life was reinvigorated, the flowers were in full bloom and the flocks of sheep and herds of cattle once again dotted the vast grassland. The flowing streams looked like magical spirits running over the ground, for whatever place they streamed to would be abundant with greenery and there the livestock would gather and there floated the soothing, melodious songs of the shepherds.
Even the monks seemed to be reinvigorated. In large groups they walked across the vibrant wilderness. However, in truth this was not a spring trip or an expedition to enjoy the spring grass, but was instead an outing to gather herbs. On the mountainside behind the temple there was a place called "herbal medicine gully" and every spring, the crimson figures of the monks always covered the slopes. Compared to chanting sutras in the temple, this was truly joyful work completed close to nature, and the monks climbed up and down the mountain gulley, laughing heartily. The younger monks especially took pleasure in working to gather herbs, even Tulku Jianggong. In the years when he was still a spirit child studying the scriptures, he had often thought, it would be fine if he could go outside every day to gather herbs. The outside world was always more attractive than the dry, tedious sutras.
At that time, the whole area of Tibet lacked medicine and modern medicine was unheard of even by tribal headmen, so the temples generally also performed the function of a hospital, and a few senior monks practiced medicine and pharmacy. The Ninth Tulku Dapu did not only have superb medicinal skills, but he was also able to gather and prescribe medicinal herbs. In the late 8th century, a sage of Tibetan Medicine, Master Yutuo Yundangongbu wrote The Four Classics of Medicine. This was a brilliant masterpiece of medical writing that was comparable to the Han sage Li Shizhen's Compendium of Materia Medica[27]. Tulku Dapu had researched The Four Classics of Medicine so that he was now very proficient, and there was not an herb on the mountain that he did not recognize, not a disease suffered by man that he had not seen before. The wisdom and good knowledge of a tulku was not only reflected in his knowledge of the dharma, but was also often shown in his insight into and grasp of the secular world—everything from the grass and trees to the human mind.
However, this year Tulku Dapu was unable to personally lead the monks up the mountain to collect herbs, as his legs were not agile enough anymore. Fortunately after Tulku Jianggong was enthroned, he was then able to handle all the affairs within the temple. Tulku Jianggong gave each lama a plant specimen of an herb and had them press it within their book of scriptures. He then told them that they were only to look methodically and mechanically for that herb and that they should not pay attention to any of the other herbs that were under their feet. This method was slightly different from when Tulku Dapu and the others had gathered herbs in the past; this was both to improve efficiency and avoid the monks picking the wrong herbs.
A few commoners also joined the ranks of herb pickers. They would put the medicinal herbs that they had picked into the bags of the lamas, because the temple normally provided free medical treatment to all those who came seeking it with no regard for wealth or rank or social status. The temple was for all living beings and the living beings made offerings to the temple; a life of compassion and faith continued outwards from this piecemeal interdependence.
In the gulley, Tulku Jianggong suddenly saw a familiar figure. Was that Sister Yangzong? He told his attendant Lama Duoji, "Go call over my sister, there's something I want to ask her."
Not long after, Yangzong arrived in front of Tulku Jianggong carrying a bundle of herbs. She laid down the herbs that she was carrying and made a kowtow in worship. Now it seemed as if their sibling relationship already no longer existed and there was now only the relationship between a Buddha and a worshipper.