Chapter 23: Where can an intimate friend be found? (II)
Tu Laoyao crouched across from her, taking off his shoes and dumping out water; Li Shiyi wrung her pants dry, and said to Song Shijiu, “Roll up the legs of your pants.”
Song Shijiu obediently complied with her words, her lustrous, pale lower legs, in the cave, seeming to have the brightness of the crescent moon; even Tu Laoyao, on seeing the smooth skin, sighed with regret.
Their actions coming to an end, only then did the group begin walking inwards; luckily, the cave didn’t have any other living creatures, only some wicker-basket-sized spider webs on either side, and a few rows of upside-down bats; when one passed, the bats would shake their wings and flutter about, dust falling from them. The deeper they walked, the more silent the cave became, and on the prominent upright stones, rock water trickled occasionally downwards, like a python’s flickering tongue when it dripped saliva from gluttony. Only after walking another few minutes did the tomb’s appearance express itself; in the centre was a wide front hall, and under the cave’s rock, a tiled roof had been built, linking together four great pillars with peeling red lacquer, marks of corrosion on the pillars seeming to be from neglect, yet resembling the tomb occupant’s sumptuous banquet hall prior to their death. Inside the front hall, there was only a single sacrificial table, which, thinking on it, ought to have ritual tools meant to be buried with the dead, but unexpectedly had been plundered entirely clean, only a few shards of earthen-coloured stones remaining behind, which, if properly distinguished, could more or less indicate the dynasty this tomb was from.
On either side of the front hall were two lateral, slanting side rooms; Tu Laoyao strolled around, but they remained deserted, with nothing in them; both suspicious and annoyed, he cursed, “Damn it, what gold? There isn’t even a single fly’s leg!”
Li Shiyi’s nostrils flared, and she crossed the anteroom, and saw a very small passageway, concealed up with a stone door; Li Shiyi was about to push the door, but then drew her hand back, crouching down to peer at it; the bottom half of the stone door was entirely covered with scrape marks of varying depths, inlaid with cinnabar-coloured bloodstains; Li Shiyi reached her fingertips out to compare them; it seemed like they were scratch marks. These miserable scratch marks seemed to have come from an extremely terrifying, desperate alarm. She pinched a talisman in her hand, indicating to Tu Laoyao to take out the relevant tool from within the bundle, and also casting a meaningful glance at A Yin; A Yin held a talisman in one hand, the other leading Song Shijiu along, protecting her behind her body, holding her breath and attentively watching Li Shiyi’s hand raise, slowly pushing the stone door open.
The proper coffin room was, actually, within the stone door; the four walls were marked with murals of an ancient era, dominated by the colours red and white, only the type of paintings of objects of rites and music, lacking the feats of a lifetime; thinking of it, the occupant of the tomb was probably a rich jia official,[1] but one without any great position, let alone the rumoured title of emperor.
Tu Laoyao revised his knowledge a bit, but he hadn’t thought for long when, seeing the murals, he felt some disappointment; his heart had, straightforwardly, been fooled; there wasn’t even half of a gold and silver box on the ground, and not even the coffin had any visible traces, only an excessively large, two person long, one person wide, Han white jade coffin bed, towering in the centre with a cold aura.
The talisman in Li Shiyi’s hand wove through the slits between her fingers, as if in the manner of playing cards, yet A Yin knew she’d become anxious; Li Shiyi’s face was, as always, deep as the unfathomable depths of clear water, but when she was anxious, she would purse her lips, and her left hand’s fingertips would, without a regular rhythm, gently tap against the side of her leg.
Tu Laoyao, looking at the white jade coffin, was still somewhat interested; though it couldn’t be carried away, advancing, he saw it seemed to have had a few nicks chiselled into it by someone; he didn’t know why it hadn’t been taken out, the shards were scattered about on the ground, as if the stars surrounding the moon. Tu Laoyao was just about to bend his waist and gather a few up, but suddenly paused; his pupils contracted as if having been stabbed by a needle, his face twisting as if having seen a ghost, and only after a long time did he recoil onto the ground, hands behind his back, legs kicking to shift backwards, the words in his mouth not taking shape, letting out a few “Ah, ah” sounds as if his neck were being strangled.
Tu Laoyao’s courage might not be great, but he had never before been frightened into this state; Li Shiyi’s heart shivered, and she hurried to crouch at his side, gaze fixing on that white bed, asking him, “What is it?”
“R…r, r, r, rabbit,” Tu Laoyao said, stuttering severely, bean-sized beads of cold sweat rolling down his forehead.
“What’s there to be afraid of from a rabbit?” A Yin said, doubtful.
Tu Laoyao, scared witless, crawled towards the exit, tugging at the leg of Li Shiyi’s pants as he crawled. “Eat, eat, eat…eating people!”
Just as the words fell, a skull rolled out from the corner of the white jade bed, marred by dried bloodstains; Song Shijiu raised a hand to cover her mouth, and saw a lump of soft fur fall to the ground, four feet rising and falling, and from behind the white jade bed, a lion-sized giant creature emerged.
The giant creature looked identical to a rabbit, though its head was larger than a person’s, its fur as beautiful as woven strands of silver; its movement shone upon the room clearly, its fire-red eyes like precious gems, not to mention its long, long ears that stretched behind it, its back and rear pretty, its thighs, on either side, like its back, having patterns like peony flowers; its posture as it moved was incredibly graceful, like an auspicious animal pressing in on one with its aura. It was precisely the fur on the side of that auspicious animal’s mouth which was stained with blood, its teeth chewing with a ge-beng, ge-beng, and it occasionally frowned, as if it had bitten upon a hard pea. At that moment, it tilted its head, calmly and unruffledly examining the group, as if they were soft-shelled turtles caught in an earthen jar.
Song Shijiu’s legs were weak, and she leaned against the wall; A Yin had also broken out in cold sweat, her breaths hurried as she retreated two steps; the alarm bells in Li Shiyi’s thoughts were loud, and she moved with light steps, moving to Song Shijiu and A Yin’s side calmly and collectedly.
“What is it?” A Yin asked her with a quiet voice.
Li Shiyi, making an effort to calm her breaths, said, “E Shou.”
The Shenyijing[2] had a record in it: “From the southwest wilderness comes the E Shou, its appearance like a tiger.”[3] It was one which misled, speaking falsely. A beast like its name, it spoke lies without authority, and it was said that if the flesh of the E Shou was eaten, one would never be able to speak truly again. The E Shou was usually in the southwest, and Li Shiyi had never run into it; unexpectedly, she met it here, and in a split second, understood why the Chilin fish outside would gather here; it was precisely the E Shou’s great animal charm which drew people and called animals to congregate.
“Does it eat people?” Song Shijiu asked in a trembling voice.
Li Shiyi retreated backwards unhurriedly as she shielded them, and said, “Yes. The E Shou feeds on lies, and likes nothing more than eating a liar; if there are a few people of the same group, it will choose the person most well-disposed to lying to eat first.” Li Shiyi’s final syllables rarely trembled, and her pupils, fixed on the E Shou, darkened a few degrees.
The E Shou swallowed the fingers its mouth, and, with swaying steps, approached in their direction; Tu Laoyao screamed, just about to run out, but saw the E Shou’s rear exerting itself, gracefully jumping to arrive before him, its front feet covering the ground, its keen eyes seizing on him, and whinnied in a low sound.
That shriek was like a dolphin’s shrill sound, having as well a touch of hoarseness, pounding rapidly against one’s eardrum, making one cover up their ears and close their eyes, dazed, and once the evil sound passed through the ears and circulated back, it was sharp enough to make the seven apertures of one’s head bleed, and even the river outside the room seemed to also be shaken by the pounding, all of the fish jumping to and fro, falling over each other like carp at the Longmen[4] to try and get out of the water. A Yin, with a groaning sound, sank to the ground, hand firmly fastening on the clay of the ground; Tu Laoyao, holding his head, rolled straight forward, eyelids screwed shut as if having by splashed by boiling water; Song Shijiu crouched in the corner, having lost all of her strength from head to toe, covering her ears as tears streamed; Li Shiyi had also been attacked by the entirely abnormal vibrations, and she half sat at the wall’s side, the hand grasping her knee’s fingers exerting themselves, the joints turning pale.
Tu Laoyao pulled at Li Shiyi’s trouser leg, crying out, “What about the talisman! What about the magic?! Shi…Shiyi-jie, I, I feel horrible!”
A grown man snivelling in such a tragic state was even more distorted than when smoking opium; Li Shiyi gripped his hand, her throat unable to say anything through the sweet tang. Only on seeing that they didn’t have any strength did the E Shou pause, a fish laying low in calm water, calm as if nothing had happened, only the ears echoing with the humming sound of its gluttonous howling, the vestibule’s appearance of having been beaten several times reminding them that everything wasn’t an illusion.
Li Shiyi, breathed a few calming breaths, and only then found her speech; she let go of Tu Laoyao’s hand, shaking her head in despair as she said, “Talismans only affect ghosts; they won’t have slightest bit of effect on an ancient beast.”
Tu Laoyao’s eyes, chaotic, paused, his lips like meat that had been sawed at, numb and unable to speak words. In the tomb chamber, there was only the sound of the deeply anxious, powerless gasping of a few people, and the clatter of the E Shou’s nails as its feet advanced. It flashed its innocent yet cunning eyes, repeatedly moving back and forth from its prey; these young women all appeared incredibly healthy and pretty, and pretty young women would always deceive people; there was also a man with an urban, coarse-skinned appearance; it didn’t know which one of the liars would become the first prey in its stomach.
Tu Laoyao turned over to vomit on the ground, yellow-white liquid expelled outwards; the E Shou didn’t stop its measured steps towards him, its trembling, glossy fur and the shadow of its entire body enveloping Tu Laoyao within it; unexpectedly, it made him look helpless and delicate; Tu Laoyao’s eyes pressed shut, mind a jumble; an idler in the jianghu, the lies he’d told were more numerous than the rice he’d eaten—not even two days ago, he’d pointed at Li Shiyi and said she was Song Shijiu’s mother.
He vomited until bile came out, legs trembling as if shocked by electricity, and he only regretted that at this moment, he didn’t have the strength, and couldn’t give himself a big slap. To call you that sort of drivel, this useless mouth ought to be torn apart. He was just preparing to die, unexpectedly unable to think of dying words in this panicked, flustered state; by the time his mind had hastily begun, he saw the E Shou’s steps pause, unexpectedly haltingly walking towards A Yin at the side.
A Yin raised her head in a panic, tear stains at the corners of her eyes, lips bitten a garish, beautiful rosy red; even in this moment, they remained like the delicate first flower at the head of a branch. The E Shou approached her, as if sniffing her, the segments of its nose shaking like it was making inquiries into her soul for quite a while; it brought the scent of decaying corpses, the stench making one want to vomit, and it opened its mouth towards her.
A Yin swallowed her cries in her throat, and pressed her eyes shut.
My name is A Yin. I am an ideal, peaches and plums beneath the heavens. I have been beautiful since I was born, and my parents passed away when I was six; my maternal uncle wanted to sell me to a low-grade brothel; my shifu, passing through, using more than half my net worth to buy me, giving me the name A Yin. Not knowing where my intimate friend would be, I’ve long kept a regret towards this feeling. I am precisely this A Yin.
That year I was twelve, the South fell into the chaos of war, and the Southern school of interpreting bones withered, and I went to the North with my shifu; in Jinan, in a wealthy general’s tomb, I met Li Shiyi, master and disciple. That year’s winter was incredibly cold; Shifu hadn’t endured it before, and with one foot in the grave, entrusted me to Li Shiyi’s shifu. Since then, she and I together carried water and chopped firewood, perfecting our techniques and methods to rob tombs; she called me A Yin, and I called her Li Shiyi, and later, I called her Shiyi.
When I was sixteen, her and I together buried her shifu at Mount Jiuru, and she led me, carrying our belongings, to Beiping. The political situation wasn’t good, and bodies were buried in disorder, and the tombs weren’t good for entering; you had to fight with the military master’s tomb-robbing team for jobs, and her and I would have one, and then not have one, becoming so impoverished as to have no good prospects. From then, Li Shiyi would train day and night, paging through books and studying, entering any tomb, taking any job.
When I was eighteen, she and I found a place to settle down, building up a crude little yard, and began to gradually gain a reputation for our skills. One day at the tail end of eighteen years, she took a job in Hebai’s Mount Wuling, but her body wasn’t in good shape, in enough pain to constantly tremble; I made her rest, and took her place to rob that tomb. In that tomb, I encountered the spirit of a Teng serpent. The Teng serpent is a mythological animal from ancient times, and it’s rumoured that it was the descendant of Nüwa’s immortal, favoured attendant. Even if it was a spirit, I was in no way any match for it; I had touched its sacrificial table, and it became infuriated, using its serpent’s tail to lash between my brows, attaching a po soul onto my body.
In the book that my shifu left to me, there’s this phrase: the Teng serpent’s character is supple, its mouth cruel, and it is lazy and lascivious.
I used every means possible to search for a cure, yet couldn't find a solution; my body longed for the essence of the opposite sex more than I did, and I grew more sluggish day by day. I had a hostility towards Li Shiyi, and I was unwilling to keep residing with her, so I moved into the Alleys. The clients I received weren’t excessive, and A Tao laughed at me for always choosing the ones that were pretty, not knowing if they were the ones patronising me, or if I was the one patronising them. I was conscious that they weren’t by any means incredibly beautiful, and only after a great while did I realise that they were all somewhat similar to Li Shiyi in appearance.
I’ve been ordered about by this body’s lust and desires; both a happy life, and a one without joy. When I can’t see Li Shiyi, I’m happy, and seeing her, I’m unhappy. Li Shiyi has come to see me countless times, talking with me the whole night, and I tell her with a smile that I’m living an ideal, that I am peaches and plums beneath the heavens.
I am called A Yin. All my words are nonsense, false words and writing, and my life is a scattered pack of lies, called “ideal”.
I will deceive her for a lifetime.
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Translator's notes:
[1]: 甲 (jia) being a historical civil administrative unit first instituted in the 保甲 (baojia) system; under the Ming dynasty, a ten-family unit was labelled a jia.
[2]: 神异经, known in English as the Book of Gods and Strange Things.
[3]: 菟 (tu) in modern Chinese refers to the dodder plant, but classically 菟 is used in the term 於菟 (wutu) as a synonym for “tiger” in the Chu area, and given the description of the E Shou, so it has been translated as such.
[4]: The Longmen (龙门), literally “Dragon’s Gate”, in Chinese mythology, is located at the top of a waterfall on a legendary mountain, and if a carp is to leap through it, it will be transformed into a dragon.
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