Chapter 101 - Qingyun Temple

Qingyun Temple was a very small Daoist temple outside the Yongjin Gate of Hangzhou. To someone accustomed to the grand scale of temples and monasteries in the old world, Qingyun Temple was rather “lost in the crowd.” Its facade was unremarkable, and it didn’t cover a large area, standing alone on the shore of West Lake outside the Yongjin Gate.

Outside the Yongjin Gate was the shore of West Lake. Although the scenery here was pleasant, it was not a bustling area; there were very few residences. Zhang Yingchen was not very satisfied with the location of Qingyun Temple—it was a bit too remote. But its advantage was its tranquility, which fit well with the image of “quiet cultivation.”

Although Qingyun Temple was small, it had a reasonably complete layout. The entire temple was arranged along a central axis, progressing from front to back and expanding to the left and right. The first courtyard housed the Hall of the Three Pure Ones, flanked by the Hall of Wenchang and the Hall of Lingguan.

The second courtyard behind the Hall of the Three Pure Ones had a stage, where Daoist rituals and operas were performed. On either side of this courtyard were elegant side yards, specially designed for wealthy patrons to rest and stay. Behind the second courtyard was the third, which contained the “quiet rooms” where the Daoists lived. The fourth courtyard was the backyard. A gate in the backyard opened to a vegetable garden, where a lay Daoist grew vegetables and raised chickens. Besides supplying food for the temple’s inhabitants, the produce could also be sold for some income to supplement the temple’s finances.

Zhang Yingchen was quite satisfied with the living environment of Qingyun Temple. Although the temple was small, there were few Daoists. Besides the young apprentices, each Daoist had a separate quiet room, and the environment was very serene. The temple was lush with trees and flowers, and just outside the courtyard walls was West Lake. In the old world, this piece of land would have been unaffordable even for millions.

Qingyun Temple was not a particularly popular one, nor did it have extensive property. However, the successive abbots had their own business acumen. They leveraged the temple’s excellent location to build relationships with many wealthy gentry families in the city. During the three major festivals and various Daoist holidays, they would receive many gifts from these families. In the summer, the sons and daughters of wealthy families, feeling stifled in the city, would often come to the temple to hold Daoist rituals and operas, and to relax and enjoy themselves. The temple also earned a considerable income from this, which sustained its existence.

Unlike in the old world, in this era, most Daoist and Buddhist temples, except for a few with court connections whose abbots held official positions and received government stipends and financial support, had to support themselves through business activities. For a temple like Qingyun Temple, which had no extensive land holdings and thus no long-term income, the pressure to survive was immense.

Therefore, the temple was reluctant to take on another mouth to feed. A Daoist who wanted to become a monk at a particular temple, if they did not bring in a certain amount of property, would have to wander for many years—”wandering” was just a euphemism for begging—before they could officially join the temple. If it weren’t for Zhang Yingchen’s miraculous skill in saving the life of Daoist Ma, who was on the verge of “ascending to immortality,” and his excellent medical skills, he would not have been able to stay here indefinitely as a “guest.”

Zhang Yingchen was very interested in this phenomenon. He observed that the abbot and the Daoists rarely studied Daoist classics. Besides fulfilling “orders” from clients, they seldom held religious activities. Their main daily activity was “generating income”: visiting patrons of all sizes to maintain relationships; setting up a tea stall outside the temple gate; and hosting patrons who came to offer incense and hold rituals, providing them with food and lodging. The temple had a lay Daoist with excellent culinary skills who made delicious dishes and pastries.

At this moment, Zhang Yingchen was writing his work report while feasting on the excellent pastries made by the lay Daoist: ham-filled crispy cakes. Beside him was a pot of fine pre-rain tea. This treatment was, of course, related to his excellent medical skills. Besides saving the abbot and gaining permission to stay, he had also treated the other Daoists in the temple, winning their favor. A few days ago, an old lady from a gentry family that had dealings with Qingyun Temple was gravely ill and on the verge of death. Many famous doctors in Hangzhou had been consulted, but they were all helpless. Daoist Ma then recommended Zhang Yingchen.

Zhang Yingchen used a combination of observation, auscultation, inquiry, palpation, and modern medical diagnostic methods to quickly identify the cause of the illness. He administered two of the Chinese patent medicines he had brought with him and wrote a few prescriptions. Miraculously, the medicine cured the disease, and he brought the patient back from the brink of death. In a few days, the reputation of a master physician at Qingyun Temple spread. Several more patients with difficult and complicated diseases came, and Zhang Yingchen treated them all successfully. He immediately became famous.

Daoist Ma’s business-savvy mind immediately realized how beneficial Zhang Yingchen’s medical skills were to Qingyun Temple. He became even more accommodating to Zhang Yingchen, not only providing him with preferential treatment in his daily life but also trying his best to meet all his requests.

Zhang Yingchen seized the opportunity to request permission to hold clinics in the temple—this would be of great benefit to expanding his fame. Since ancient times, various emerging religions have used “healing” as a means of propagation. Regardless of whether the “healing” was truly effective, it was the easiest way to move the common people.

Daoist Ma naturally agreed wholeheartedly—after all, this would enhance the reputation of Qingyun Temple. Since Zhang Yingchen began holding clinics in the temple, the number of worshippers had increased significantly. Zhang Yingchen charged for his consultations and medicine on a “pay-what-you-can” basis, setting up a donation box and never asking for payment. As a result, his reputation soared.

He also did not take the money from the donation box, giving it all to the temple for its use. For a time, everyone in the temple, from top to bottom, admired his medical skills and ethics. Word of mouth spread, and everyone knew that a highly skilled and virtuous Daoist had come to Qingyun Temple.

“I have finally established a foothold here,” Zhang Yingchen thought as he wrote his report. “The next step is to expand my fame and recruit followers—first, I need to win over this Qingyun Temple.”

As he was contemplating how to seize the leadership of Qingyun Temple, a young, handsome Daoist apprentice named Mingqing appeared at the door of his quiet room.

“Daoist Zhang, are your medical consultations still being held under the stage in the second courtyard?” he asked.

“Same as always,” Zhang Yingchen said, putting his quill pen into the stationery box, blowing on the report, folding it, and placing it in a small, locked jewelry box. The report was written in English—in this era, this was the simplest form of handwritten code. It was unlikely that anyone in all of Hangzhou could understand it. The missionaries at the church were all language experts, but Zhang Yingchen didn’t think they would know English—and modern English at that.

He stood up, took a sip of tea, and cleared his throat. He picked up the locked medicine box that never left his sight. No matter how famous he became, Zhang Yingchen still wore the simple Daoist attire of a blue robe and cloth sash. However, his tall stature, built on a foundation of meat, eggs, and milk from the old world, was quite visually striking in the relatively prosperous region of Zhejiang. Moreover, after more than a year of formally organizing religious activities, he had gained some skill in projecting the air of a transcendent master. The saying, “The divine physician at Qingyun Temple is a match for Chunyang,” was gradually spreading in the city. The most obvious proof was that recently, several of his patients were of the gossipy “three aunts and six grannies” type, who specifically asked if he was a lay Daoist who abstained from meat during thunderstorms and if he had any intention of returning to secular life and marrying into a local family. It seemed that Zhang Yingchen’s value was not only understood by Daoist Ma.

In the late Ming Dynasty, the Buddhist and Daoist temples in Zhejiang were highly secularized. There were many “hereditary temples” in Hangzhou where the position of abbot was passed down from father to son. Every year, there were scandals of young women and wives eloping with handsome Daoists and monks who performed rituals. Apart from highly respected so-called high monks like Lianchi of Yunqi Temple and Yuanwu of Tiantong Temple, it was common for monks and Daoists to openly marry and have children. Compared to these hereditary temples, which had the style of later Japanese family-run temple businesses, the Lotus Essence Nunnery in Guangzhou, with its legacy of Yu Xuanji, was just a small-time operation in the special services industry.

Zhang Yingchen carried his medicine box to the second courtyard. Next to the stage were several hundred-year-old camphor trees, their dense foliage providing ample shade. His clinic was set up under the trees. The medicine box contained dozens of Chinese patent medicines produced by Runshitang, made according to modern formulas and processes. There were also several Western medicines produced in Lin’gao—the most important being sulfa drugs and oxytetracycline. Without these two antibiotics, his fame would not be so great. Traditional Chinese medicine was relatively weak in treating infections, and several cases that had stumped famous doctors of this era were saved by antibiotics.

The medicine was being consumed quickly—although the inspection team had brought him a large box of supplementary medicine. Zhang Yingchen had recently greatly reduced his use of modern medicines from Lin’gao. Whenever he could find a local substitute, he would use it. Therefore, he had been writing more prescriptions and giving out less medicine lately. Some patients didn’t actually need Chinese patent medicines and could have just filled his prescriptions, but because they believed this “Daoist Zhang” had “divine medicine,” they wouldn’t leave without a few pills. Zhang Yingchen had to make many “pills” from glutinous rice flour and honey as placebos to distribute to the patients—and the results were said to be quite good.

However, dispensing medicine was still a necessary task. Zhang Yingchen found that many common people could not afford medicine; even if he wrote a prescription, they had no money to fill it. These people didn’t even take his prescriptions, only begging for a few pills of “divine medicine.”

After all, glutinous rice and honey pills had no therapeutic effect. If he didn’t dispense real medicine, it would be difficult for him to gain sufficient influence among the lower classes.

Runshitang was also a member of the Mountain and Sea lines, but setting up its pharmacies was more difficult than other shops. The Ming Dynasty’s “Watsons” chain had not even completed its layout for the entire island of Hainan, and only one store had been opened on the mainland, in Guangzhou.

There were many reasons for the slow expansion. There was local resistance; in many places, people from all classes were very wary of outside pharmacies, and some places simply prohibited outsiders from opening them. Secondly, there was the production capacity of Runshitang. Although the Runshitang pharmaceutical factory in the private industrial park in Lin’gao had started preliminary production, a large portion of the medicine produced was consumed in Qiongzhou. The insufficient production volume could not meet the basic stocking needs of new stores.