In the hills west of the lake, a peak stands where it does not belong.
Some seventeen centuries ago, a monk named Huili came here from India. He looked up at the peak and was astonished, for it was a mountain from his homeland. "When did it fly here?" he asked. It has been called the Peak That Flew Here ever since. At its foot he founded a temple and named it Lingyin — the place where the spirit hides.
The spirit is hiding still. Carved into the rock, stone Buddhas smile in the half-dark. Incense drifts through the old trees. People come here to ask for wisdom, for an answer, for a sign that they are on the right road.
This chapter is for clarity, and for the quiet voice that already knows.
