Chapter 7: The Fifth Watch

"Stay here," said Jingmo.

He was already on his feet, dragging a white robe from the shelf, one sleeve over his arm and his sash in his teeth.

"No."

"Yanzhi."

"I did not climb nine thousand steps to sit in a hut."

"If he sees you..."

"He has seen me. He's been looking at me since the gate."

Yanzhi snatched his orange silks off the floor and stuffed his arms into them. "Let him look."

Jingmo stared at him.

Then he crossed the room in two strides, took Yanzhi's face in both hands and kissed him hard enough to bruise.

"Walk at the back," he said against his mouth. "Say nothing. Whatever happens, do not change shape."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

They went down the mountain in the grey light, with Jingmo ahead and the white robe flying.

Yanzhi followed with his heart in his mouth and the red cord swinging at his throat.

The vow hall was already full.

It was the largest room in the temple, a long dim space of red pillars and gilded rafters.

A Buddha twenty feet high sat at the far end, and rows of monks knelt to either side.

Incense hung blue in the air.

Yanzhi slipped in through the side door with a crowd of novices and pressed himself against a pillar at the back.

Nobody looked at him.

At the front, before the Buddha, a single cushion lay on a plain mat, and beside it stood a low black table.

On the table lay a shaving razor, a bowl of water, and three small cones of incense no bigger than a thumbnail.

Yanzhi knew what they were for.

Jingmo had told him, in the dark.

Three burns on the crown of the head, one for each vow, small round scars that last a lifetime.

The abbot sat on his dais, tiny and straight.

The Warden stood below it with his hands folded in his black and white sleeves, serene.

He saw Yanzhi come in, and he smiled.

Jingmo walked down the long aisle with his head high.

Every eye followed his white robe, and the whisper that ran along the benches was reverent.

He was about to become a saint, Yanzhi thought, and Yanzhi was about to wreck it.

Jingmo reached the cushion and knelt.

"Jingmo," said the abbot, in his high clear voice. "Student of this hall for seven years. Do you come freely to your final vows?"

"I come..."

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