Five Poems from a Journey to Southern Shanxi

WARNING

Preface

During the National Day holiday, I traveled through Shanxi with Black Myth: Wukong, visiting three cities in southern Shanxi—Jincheng, Linfen, and Yuncheng—and composed five poems to briefly document the journey.

Southern Shanxi Journey · Part 1

The door hides broken statues, the eaves bear golden chimes.
Dabs of emerald dye the tangled woods, splashes of ink unfold jade skirts.
Fresh branches climb rotten wood, the old lead the young.
Lin Huiyin would weep—can a thousand years leave blank space?

Lone Zither
October 2, 2024
Jade Emperor Temple, Fucheng Guan Yu Temple, Qinglian Temple, Jincheng

At the Jade Emperor Temple, flash photography is banned in the Hall of Twenty-Eight Constellations, and the statues are hidden behind iron railings, their paint peeling, some even headless or limbless—a regrettable sight.
The statues at Fucheng Guan Yu Temple are mostly modern recreations, crudely made and unappetizing. The architecture, however, is worth a look.
Qinglian Temple sits high on a distant mountain, with breathtaking scenery along the way. In autumn, the mountains are lush, the waters clear, dotted with broad red and yellow leaves under a cloudless sky—a land of splendor.

Southern Shanxi Journey · Part 2

Weary, the Green Emperor has yet to take his post, morning mist rushes to break the dawn’s chill.
Just crossed seas of people to glimpse the Buddha’s face, now climb forested clouds to visit the temple.
Nine golden bodies, nine lotuses, three gates, three altars.
Before the scaled sunset gathers dusk, my light steed has leaped over layered peaks.

Lone Zither
October 3, 2024
Kaihua Temple, Iron Buddha Temple, Dinglin Temple, Jincheng

Early in the morning, I took the bus to Gaoping, first visiting Kaihua Temple before returning to Iron Buddha Temple. The latter, newly reopened, was packed, tucked deep in a small village courtyard. After queuing for over an hour, I glimpsed the Buddha’s face for just two minutes. Fortunately, I met a family of three in line—open-minded parents unbothered by anime and games. (Their twin-tailed daughter was adorable, by the way.)
Dinglin Temple’s lotus caisson ceiling had also recently reopened, and I was lucky to see it—truly magnificent.

Southern Shanxi Journey · Part 3

Prelude to Water Melody

The Buddha feasts on incense offerings, stone tablets drown in dust.
I ask the hills beneath his seat: do sutras reach the divine?
Shorn locks renounce desire, abstinence purges the halls,
smiles mask wrath. They know the laws of five aggregates,
yet fail to grasp the body of ignorance.
False cymbals, temple repairs, deceiving the credulous.
Promises of merit mimic the Tathagata’s great vehicle.
Bribes buy devotion, virtue lacks faith—
the Eight Precepts mislead the sangha.
The chime-keeper chants wealth, the false Buddha saves worldly monks.

Lone Zither
October 4, 2024
Little Western Heaven, Linfen

Eight Precepts:

1. No killing.
2. No stealing.
3. No sexual misconduct.
4. No lying.
5. No intoxication.
6. No adornments.
7. No high or broad beds.
8. No eating after noon.

Yellow Brow’s Counter:
No killing? Hatred never ends.
No stealing? Why distinguish strong from weak?
No lust? All sentience is sin.
No lies? Dreams, bubbles, shadows, void.
No wine? Sorrow ebbs and flows.
No pleasure? Beauty fades in a blink.
No sloth? Suffering binds without release.
No indulgence? All acts are joyless.

The lower temple of Little Western Heaven was unremarkable, filled with devotees praying for wealth and sons. A nun (?) sat nearby striking a chime, chanting promises of billions in daily earnings—utterly cynical.
The upper temple’s Mahavira Hall boasts astonishing hanging sculptures, grand in scale. Sadly, the crowds left little time for close inspection. I arrived too late to receive Shanxi’s official commemorative postcard—a slight regret.

Southern Shanxi Journey · Part 4

An ancient temple guards Pingyang, three quakes veil the Buddha’s light.
The towering glazed pagoda, the ethereal Arhat Hall.
Scriptures sought through merit, rain prayed for by kings.
A canon passed to the East, the golden age of Tang began.

Lone Zither
October 6, 2024
Guang Sheng Temple, Linfen

Guang Sheng Temple in Hongtong County features a Rain God Temple in its lower complex, its walls covered in murals, though poorly preserved. The dim light inside made details hard to discern. Side rooms displayed official scanned reproductions—vivid and lifelike, truly masterful.
The upper temple’s Flying Rainbow Pagoda is clad in glazed tiles, though only the first floor is open, with little to see inside.
The rear courtyard’s Tianzhongtian Hall houses three colossal Buddhas, over ten feet tall, their elegant forms a marvel.

Southern Shanxi Journey · Part 5

Encountering Wei Taoran at Stork Tower

No immortal of wine was I born,
inking brows, grinding words.
At Stork Tower, I duel Wang Zhihuan,
below Taihang, I ponder the Chairman.
You roam the world a free spirit,
I’m trapped in the ivory tower, forever young.
If heaven and earth offer no refuge,
let poetry debts buy wine.

Lone Zither
October 6, 2024
Yongle Palace, Guangren King Temple, Stork Tower, Guan Yu Temple, Yuncheng

A rushed group tour in Yuncheng left little time for details. At Stork Tower, I spotted a stall boldly labeled “Selling Original Poetry.” After touring the new tower, I revisited the collection, struck by lingering awe. Wei Taoran, inspired by a Dali poetess, returned to literature—I too once wrote many poems, mostly idle scribbles, never considering it a livelihood.
In high school, I gifted my poetry drafts to someone. After the breakup, I scarcely wrote again. First, gaming consumed me—I read little, my pen dry, my efforts unsatisfying. Second, life blurred like fog—neither piercing nor clear, I drifted in haze. Third, the ivory tower’s monotony left me numb, devoid of poetic spark.

Afterword

The three cities of southern Shanxi each have their charm.
Jincheng is bustling, with efficient buses and dedicated routes to attractions. Arriving downtown, the streets blaze with light.
Linfen is peculiar—even areas around the bus station are dark, and distant sites lack dedicated transit, making private hires costly. Its public toilets are uniquely varied—I biked past twenty-plus on shared e-scooters, no two alike.
Yuncheng thrives—shops and stalls pack main roads and alleys, with rumors of north-south markets (and delicious, honest-to-goodness buns).