Yellow-Robed Squire#

In silken robes that flutter bright, A long-snouted guai with eyes alight. Drunk with joy, he sleeps on tombs forlorn, His spear and armor, gleam like dawn. Windy, searing sun, a vast waste.

A headless monk and a yellow-robed squire rested together under a withered tree.

The monk plucked at the strings of his Sanxian, his body swaying gently to and fro.

"Enough," said the squire, rousing himself."Let's have some peace."

The monk's hand stilled. He edged away, then raised his hand to strum again.

The squire hastily held out his drinking flask. "Have a drink?"" "With what mouth? I ain't got a head."

"Where is it?"

"Didn't ye hear the song?" the monk answered himself. "Gone! Someone stole it."

"You should've kept better watch on your head. The fault is your own."

The monk turned away, making no answer.

The squire drew a piece of gold from his robe and showed it to the monk.

Though he had neither head nor eyes, the monk warned: "Mind how ye swing about such a prize. Could have the thieves eyeing ye.""

The squire waved a hand. "1 don't have to worry. I'll come for you if it's filched.""

"Me?".

"You're the only one I've shown it to. If it's gone, you will be the culprit."

The monk gave a dry chuckle, at a loss for words.

The squire gestured toward the horizon."There's gold aplenty there. Why should you covet a mere sheet from me?".

"I ain't after yer gold. But tell me, what gold lies there?""

"You truly don't know? That was once a kingdom abundant with gold.

Gold from the gilded Buddha statues, all stripped bare."

"Even the gold on Buddha statues... Ye ain't a believer in karma then?" "Ha! All those golden Buddhas never brought them any favor. It is plain there is no such thing as karma."

The monk fell silent.

The squire sneered. Tipping his flask, he found it empty and then rose to his feet. "I'm to await someone at the bidding of my Brother. If you want more drink, come find me."

He tucked the flask on the side. "I'll go scrape off more gold and trade it for a better brew. Then we can drink our fill!"

The monk tried to stop him, so he played the Sanxian, singing a song of karmic justice.

The squire paid him no mind. With a wave and a laugh, he strode away across the sands.

The headless monk's heart weighed down with disquiet. The yellow- robed squire, however, went on his way, and the desert air rang long with the peals of his laughter.