Chapter 15: From a long and arduous journey comes peace (V)

Just as the words fell, Tu Laoyao was abruptly roused, his hands tightly grasping the armrests to the left and the right, and he cautiously gazed at either side, and said, “It, it’s like the painting again?”

Song Shijiu let out a couple of sighs, and once Li Shiyi had been sighed awake, she raised a hand and rubbed her forehead, her voice remaining hoarse as she said, “Say it, then.” Her voice was soft like a young bird’s shed down, eliciting a soft tickle in the bottom tip of one’s heart, like those days she’d eaten and slept with her, when Song Shijiu had always wanted to curl in the crook of her arm, ears perked to hear the sound of her still not fully awake voice.

Song Shijiu said in a secretive manner, “I’m quite terrific; indeed, I can slow down the effects of growth.” In the period of speech, the passengers inside the hold woke up one after another, some of them carrying their mugs and heading outside to brush their teeth, some of them wearing slippers to go look for a place to relieve themselves; Tu Laoyao looked left and right, and let out a hei—these first-rate people rubbed at their eyes drowsily, unexpectedly appearing neither decent nor respectful.

Li Shiyi let out a breath of surprise, not knowing what she was thinking; a moment before, her fingers had come alive with perception, like playing poker, unconsciously coiling the ends of Song Shijiu’s hair back and forth between her fingers.

The pull on her scalp somewhat painful, yet Song Shijiu forgot to take her hair back, only watching her movements in a daze. Fortunately, her hair was long enough that pulling at it like this wasn’t too embarrassing, and Song Shijiu went on a mental journey into space in her thoughts.

Yet with a clear pa sound, A Yin stretched her body forward and swatted at Li Shiyi’s sound, saying, “Weren’t we going to get off the boat today?”

Li Shiyi lazily furrowed her brows and let go of Song Shijiu’s hair, and turned her hand to rub at her neck, and glanced at the scenery outside, saying, “It would seem so.”

Song Shijiu took back her own hair, gazing at A Yin with a complicated expression. A Yin, unclear of the reason, asked, “What is it?” An incantation wasn’t effective, could a vendetta be carried out?

Song Shijiu shook her head, and suddenly thought of something important, her body swaying side to side, and she asked Tu Laoyao, “Tu Laoyao, how old are you?”

Tu Laoyao replied, “What do I have to say to an infant like you; this Tu family’s youth will be as tall as you in a few days.”

Such grand words. Song Shijiu’s lips slanted downwards, and she leaned forward to ask A Yin, “How many years old is A Yin-jiejie?”

A Yin fished out a mirror to fix her makeup, and said, “Since you’re calling me ‘jiejie’, you’re actually asking my age—isn’t that intentional?”

Song Shijiu glanced at A Chun, and A Chun was just about to open her mouth, when Song Shijiu raised a hand to stop her. “You don’t need to say it.” Once she finished speaking, she drew back, and only then hesitantly looked at Li Shiyi, asking her, “Shiyi, you, how old are you?”

Li Shiyi brushed aside her bangs, and said, “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Song Shijiu was startled.

Li Shiyi let out a breath, and said, “I’ve lived too long.”

Song Shijiu’s pupils contracted, her small lips pursing, and with the air of wrapping a baozi, slowly and solemnly looked Li Shiyi up and down, and saw Li Shiyi’s eyelids raising as she idled her time away, the ink-black pupils carrying their usual unconcerned smiling expression, which seemed to disappear as soon as she blinked. Song Shijiu on drawing back sensed the mischievous mood of “teasing”, and although Li Shiyi’s expression wasn’t obvious, this vivid look appeared in her eyes, just like a black cloud splitting open into a mouth, as if the spring breeze was released, contentedly caressing the willows on the shore. “Ai,” she said, rubbing her stomach and exclaiming without reason. Li Shiyi inexplicably raised her brows, and heard her tilt her head and ask, “Then, how old would you like me to be?”

This phrase had no beginning nor end, and made Li Shiyi firmly and honestly startle for several moments, and only after considering it earnestly for quite a while, muttered, “One or two years, then.”

“What are you saying?” Song Shijiu’s heart let out a ge-deng.

Neither disruptive nor noisy, quiet and clever, and besides…Li Shiyi raised her head and glanced at her, saying, “Still spitting bubbles.”

Song Shijiu opened her mouth and bit her lip, leaning her body against the back of the chair, and listened to the buzzing of the steamship, and exhaled deeply.

When the ship reached the shore, it was already noon; what sort of delegation of people still had the high spirits to wait for the boat?; each person’s spirit was dejected and depressed and of no use. Even the bright and beautiful wealthy’s faces were black with dejection, pulling at their wrinkled Western-style trousers, spilling out with frames like heavy smokers as they walked out; A Chun, a Jintang Jade Horse,^[1] remained with a beautiful face, gathered up her beautiful hair meticulously.

“It seems that being a ghost is in fact better,” A Yin said, leaning her body against Li Shiyi, her bones wanting to come loose from her skeleton. Fortunately, the car didn’t take more than a few hours, and before dusk, they arrived in Xi’an, its roads in all directions, which were also wider than Sijiucheng’s, the tile and brick houses on either side of the asphalt road like pieces of tofu, the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda in the distance standing proudly in a league of its own, and approaching, it had the touch of fragrance of mutton meat and bread soup, bicycles ringing, youth stretching out a leg to stop on the curbside, fishing out a few copper coins in exchange for a slice of thick steamed bread.

Having rushed around for the past few days, the fat of their stomachs had withered; Song Shijiu, hands aloofly clapped behind her back, swallowed saliva as she spied on the shouting stallkeeper to the side. Unexpectedly, that stallkeeper was at the head of the street, and he stuffed the meat bun^[2] into her hand; Song Shijiu, caught unprepared, lifted the all-permeatingly fragrant bun, glancing foolishly towards Li Shiyi. The simmered, thick gravy, the lean and fatty meat slices, topped with chopped pieces of green peppers and cilantro, were all bundled in a steamed bun that was crisp on the outside and tender on the inside, and Song Shijiu was bewildered with fascination; seeing three people and one ghost stopped and staring at her, with great difficulty, she waved her hands at the stallkeeper and said, “No, no need.”

Li Shiyi glanced at her, stepping forward to pass over the money, and asked her, “Is one enough?”

Following the street, they bought a few snacks, and then, arriving at the restaurant, they ate a good deal more; A Chun led the group until they arrived at the residence that had been arranged in the northwest of the city; originally, she’d invited everyone to rest for a night, and then the next morning, enter the tomb, and Li Shiyi, who had delayed too long, felt very apologetic, briefly rested for a few shichen, and started work in the night.

Under nightfall, Xi’an settled into a docile silence; the changes in its name couldn’t deprive it of the depth the years had bestowed upon it, and it was still ablaze with lights, remaining remote in one part of memory. The rickshaw left the city gates, heading towards Xianyang in the northwest, as Xi’an and Xianyang were in adjacent positions, and stopped in that spot.

Li Shiyi waited for the others to get out of the rickshaw, and saw the lacquer-black mountains of the land, the moon hidden and the stars immersed, and the terrain was indistinguishable, but it seemed as if halfway up the hillside there were a few not so large monasteries, sporadically flickering candle flames; in between the sleeping chickens and dogs, the scent of burning incense floated down the mountain on the wind, arousing somewhat of a Buddha-like nature in the forest.

The foot of the mountain was surrounded by several dozing workers, pulling cloth canopies into sheds, and finding not too large piece of level land, they surrounded it. The leader crouched on the slab of rock and smoked, and, seeing A Chun, quickly ground the cigarette butt beneath the sole of his shoe, and, rubbing his hands together, approached, saying, “Miss A Chun.”

A Chun said a few words to him, and Tu Laoyao, seeing the weather grow colder, passed the overcoat in his hand over to Li Shiyi; Li Shiyi took it, raising her eyes, saw A Yin, covered in her fur coat, gathering Song Shijiu up, her palm rubbing her arms back and forth, and asked her, “Are you cold or not?”

Song Shijiu shook her head, and Li Shiyi put the overcoat on herself, and walked over to the shed and into it; A Chun came over, pointing at the square hole as wide as a whole person, and said, “It’s exactly this place.”

It was an opening surrounded by sandy yellow loess, a wooden ladder frame supporting it, which lead directly to the underground tomb passage; Li Shiyi crouched and glanced into it, and tapped the ege of the wall, then stood up and said to A Chun, “Let’s go down, then.”

A Chun nodded, and followed along the ladder, climbing down; holding up a kerosene glass lamp, Li Shiyi waited in the lamplight as the others successively descended into the tomb; Tu Laoyao advanced a couple steps forward, pressing against Li Shiyi’s side, his eyes darting in all directions, his heart trembling somewhat with fear.

This tomb was much larger than the tombs he’d seen before, its tunnel as wide as three people, long enough and deep enough that the end wasn’t visible; usually, when descending into a tomb, the atrium was arranged at the fore, sealed by soil, and only with the light of a flame could it be seen clearly. Li Shiyi tamped lightly on the tomb passage, heel making contact with the ground before the sole followed, inverted from the pattern of the others. Li Shiyi indicated to Tu Laoyao to raise the lamp up a bit higher, and raised her head to look upwards, unexpectedly counting four atriums, the side wall in between two of them having a niche on one side, some crushed pottery figurines laid within it. Li Shiyi approached and then stopped, looking at the discoloured light grey figurines, approximately a third of a metre or so long, half-sleeved jackets covering short skirts, silk capes carried in between the arms, with hair coiled in a spiral and pinned with a comb, hands holding bamboo sheng,^[3] and although the faces had been eroded and couldn’t be made out, their full cheeks could clearly be seen.

“A Tang dynasty tomb?” Li Shiyi asked quietly, gazing at the lifeless dolls of female entertainers.

A Chun nodded, slowly passing through the moon-shaped arched door, and said, “The gentleman who I invited previously also said the same.”

Li Shiyi advanced a few steps on her heels; in accordance with the number of atriums and figurines, the social status of the owner of the tomb wasn’t low, yet the absence of murals, inscriptions, or a prayer stele all made it seem like the identity was intentionally concealed.

Passing through the arched door entered into the main room of the tomb, and the four-sided appearance was extremely regular, the tomb built of tamped bricks, its four walls mottled, and removing the greying, yellowish skin, there wasn’t even a hint of a painting or writing, and even more, it lacked gold and silver or jade artefacts; whether they had originally not been buried next to the body, or been removed by A Chun was unclear. The entire journey had been unhindered, without any strange doors or mechanisms, and it could be assumed that that master who had come repeatedly had already found out any secrets.

In the cenre of the room, there was a coffin bed engraved with magical clouds and water lily patterns, in a three-sided curtain, preserved almost entirely well, while the coffin had been severely oxidised, peeling off in layer after layer like a snake’s skin, the original colour indistinguishable in between the ashen colour.

Tu Laoyao, in any case, had learned some superficial knowledge, and he set aside the oil lamp on the ground, walking all around the coffin, and A Chun, holding Song Shijiu’s hand, stood at the entrance, disliking the aura of decay too much to be willing to come over. Li Shiyi extended a hand and rapped twice on the coffin, then extended her hand to touch it; it seemed to be made of nanmu wood, approximately six cun thick, the surface in an air-dried cowhide. She drew her hand back, rubbing the excess ash between her fingers, her chest expanding and then sinking again, and turned her head to look at A Chun, finding her standing in a daze, gazing at the coffin, her eyes seeming to have had a thousand ships passed by, belonging to the depths of the sea. The sudden surge of sentiment made it seem as if her body was a soon to dissipate wandering ghost, casting aside worldly cares as she stood in that ancient tomb.

The forgotten Tu Laoyao let out a cry, recoiling two steps to Li Shiyi, and Li Shiyi reached out a hand to grab ahold of him, and saw he was pointing towards a spot not too far from the side of the coffin, shouting, “B…bones!”

Li Shiyi inclined her head to cast a glance, and saw that not too far from the coffin laid a well-preserved skeleton, head facing towards the bed of the coffin, feet towards the tomb entrance, the bones faintly blackened, as if it had been poisoned; unconsciously, she turned her head to glance at A Chun, whose face held a barely-detectable bitter smile, and with a fluid glance, gently dropped her eyes and said, “It’s me.”

The blue sea turned into mulberry fields; time shifted and the world changed, a beautiful, lovely woman becoming ghastly white bones.

“Shiyi,” she said mildly, gazing at that pitiful, terrifying skeleton, “go head and ask of the coffin.”

Li Shiyi let out a soft sigh, her hand reaching out to take the proffered smoking pipe from Tu Laoyao’s hand, and then from the silk brocade bag fished out strips of tobacco and packed them in, one hand holding the match and deftly striking it, and once it was lit, placed it in front of the coffin. One qian of wormwood, one qian of fresh rhinoceros horn, three qian of sweet basil, two liang of baijiu, the tobacco strips submerged within for thirty-six days; there couldn’t be even a fraction of discrepancy. Sweet basil attracted sentiment, wormwood confused the spirit, baijiu paved the road ahead, and fresh rhinoceros horn allowed one to communicate. Knock on the tomb, ask three questions: one asking where the origin, the second one asking the destination, and the third asking about why the bones of the dead had been left in the tomb—the flesh had decayed, but had the heart not?

“From whence did you come?”

“The first year of Linde,^[4] Shanxian.”

“Where is your destination?”

“The twelfth yin department of the Mirror of Retribution.”^[5]

“Whose are the bones outside of the coffin?”

“...Yue Niang.”

“Yue Niang…” The tomb fell silent in an instant, only the strands of smoke floating upwards, twining together; Li Shiyi turned her head to stare, startled and uneasy, at A Chun; candlelight fell upon her inclined face, bright and dazzling as the rightful princess of a nation, arrogance and resplendence bestowed by heaven, a millennium clearly engraving a soul as lonely as deep evening mist onto bone, alone and helpless. She was like a pearl secretly thrown into the darkness, covered in desolate loess, waiting for the day someone brushed it aside with a horsetail whisk.

Her faded eyes finally were bright, and although the tears were many, many years late, they were trapped in her eyes, filling but not falling, as if she disdained to do so, yet also as if she didn’t have the courage. “Yue Niang, that was my childhood name,” she said, her throat moving, pupils clear of mist, and halted, then continued, “my better-known^[6] address is—Taiping.”^[7]

Freedom of movement across the great roads, a fragrant jade imperial carriage, red candles with dark speckles; a repose flowing with rouge, the highest heavenly palace, a thousand nations paying tribute.

Peace in all directions, prosperity beneath the heavens.

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Translator's notes:

[1]: Presumably Jintang Jade Horse is a variation on Yutang Golden Horse (玉堂金马), an old metaphor for being talented, prominent, knowledgeable, and wealthy, coming from the poem Justification Against Ridicule (解嘲, Jie Chao) by the Western Han poet Yang Xiong.

[2]: The meat bun referred to here is roujiamo (肉夹馍), a type of sliced meat sandwich popular in Northern China.

[3]: The sheng (笙) is a type of mouth-blown instrument traditionally made of bamboo reeds.

[4]: The first year of Linde was 644 CE under the Tang emperor Gaozong.

[5]: The Mirror of Retribution, Nie Jingtai (孽镜台), also rendered Nieh-ching-t'ai, is a mirror in the Chinese underworld, Diyu. Also known as the Mirror of the Wicked or the Mirror of Past Existences, souls are forced to stand in front of it and see the crimes of previous lives, after which judgement is passed by the Yama King.

[6]: 夺目 (duomu) translates literally as “dazzling” or “resplendent”, but here I have rendered it more along the lines of “that which eclipses others”.

[7]: Princess Taiping was a Tang dynasty princess born sometime after 662 CE and died 713 CE. She was the youngest daughter of Wu Zetian and Emperor Gaozong.