Extra 4: Bashe (I)

"You, do you capture yao?"

Yang-er-shenzi strove to absorb the words from just before, repeatedly casting a glance at this man before her; he had a large belly and a wide forehead, and as he spoke, his right leg was placed on the threshold, the shaking of his leg even more fragmented than his words. The two young ladies behind him were unexpectedly dignified, their faces as neat as if from a landscape painting, their expressions half hidden and half revealed, and when looking at them carefully, there was unexpectedly some strength of Daoist practitioner's character.

"Ah," Tu Laoyao replied, drawing Yang-er-shenzi's back, his foot pressing against the threshold once more, and he asked her, "has there been anything out of the ordinary?"

Song Shijiu held Li Shiyi's hand behind her back, calmly and collectedly looking about. Three days ago, they'd received a letter from Yushiqie, saying that the strange beast of Mount Zhongshan, the Bashe, had died three years ago, yet, even now, it hadn't passed over the Yellow Springs, and had probably been devoured by someone.

The Bashe was different from all other beasts; if the snake's gall was devoured by someone, then it would hang above one's heart, protecting one from suffering the pains of heartache; once this person died of old age, the snake's gall would enter the underworld, and gather together with the Bashe's essence and soul, and only then could it pass over the Naihe Bridge.

Three years ago, when the Bashe had died, the place it had made a wailing sound was precisely this Mount Luming. Mount Luming wasn't far from Hejia Village, and so, Yushiqie had sent a letter, asking Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu to investigate along the way.

Mount Luming was so desolate that even the sun felt like a pretence, even more faint than a salted egg yolk that had been set aside a whole night; it was only with great difficulty that they'd found this person, yet for a long time, she couldn't understand, and only after Tu Laoyao had talked at length, his throat dry and his tongue cottony, did she finally understand somewhat.

"There aren't any yao in this place of ours," Yang-er-shenzi said, unusually confident. "There couldn't even be any fighting; where could the yao come from?"

That's not right, Li Shiyi thought, furrowing her brows; when a strange beast died, a miasma would pervade the area, not dispersing for ten years; this mountain was half-covered by fog, and when carefully taking a breath, there was actually the scent of sulfur; it was high noon, yet there weren't even scavenging birds; if the Bashe were to have been devoured, it ought truly have been on this mountain. So, she asked, "On this mountain, are there any others?" Her voice was as if having been soaked by snow; it was cool and light, yet the final syllable carried a natural fragrance, as if what was heard emerging from her throat was a spring snow, and not the winter's snow at all.

Yang-er-shenzi was dazed, and only after a while did she reply, "There's a Buddhist nunnery halfway up the mountain, and at the foot, there are some women who do business." She swallowed saliva, and turned her face, saying quietly, "Selling their bodies."

That…Song Shijiu raised a brow; in wild, mountainous country, selling their bodies? Where would the clients be coming from?

Yang-er-shenzi seemed to have noticed her doubt, and rubbed her nose. "Sometimes, men from nearby town come; usually, it's not that lively." As for why these women in the business didn't move to the neighbouring town, she didn't know, nor did she often pay attention to it.

Parting from Yang-er-shenzi, Li Shiyi and the others headed towards the nearby mountains, separated by fog, and in the distance, a brothel. It was nothing like the red flowers and green willows of imagination; this brothel could be said, in a phrase, to be simple and neat, a small, two-storied building, with black tiles and white walls; in the front of the courtyard, wood had been used to create a crude, simple shack, pale dye cloth hung up on the beams, arranged in picturesque disorder of rows, and they swayed idly in the wind. Because the implicit words which had just passed their ears, the sound of these dye cloths turned into the indistinct clamour of bells, coquettishly embracing visitors.

The door was half open, and there weren't any lamps lit within; passing over the threshold, there was a fragrance as delicate as new tea, and only squinting slightly could the outlines of the table and chairs be made out; half-cooled tea, a half-reinforced shoe's sole, carelessly placed atop the table, everything shockingly respectable, yet Tu Laoyao could only feel terribly panicked from head to toe, drawing his neck back and shivering with gooseflesh; only then did he resolutely clear his throat, about to ask a question.

"I'm not taking clients today."

The sound from the back of the room, as soft as a strand of smoke, about to break with a pinch.

"What…what are you talking about!" Tu Laoyao, for no reason, was humiliated, tongue-tied and speechless. "Who, who, who said I, so what!"

He'd muddled about in the Eight Alleys, yet he'd been made red in the face by the wildling in these mountains; he thrust out his chest, striving to to bring back the moral integrity back to himself.

That woman added, "A female client; I still won't take any."

There were clearly two women, but it was as if her words were only settling on Li Shiyi; Song Shijiu bit her lower lip, and drew out the frame of her fan, shaking it lightly in her hand. Li Shiyi cast a glance at her minor motion, and pressed the faint smiling expression at the side of her mouth.

Song Shijiu raised a look at her, and said quietly, "There's something strange here."

Li Shiyi's right brow drew out, indicating that she remain calm; in a few steps, she came forward from out of the shadows, and said softly, "We'll drink some tea, rest our feet for a bit, and then leave." She didn't wait for the woman's reply, merely sitting down beside the chair at the table, minding herself as she turned over a cup and filled it with with tea, setting it down by Song Shijiu's side.

The owner of the brothel didn't grow angry either, as if used to scoundrels, and still, not the slightest thought was revealed on her face, only using the movement to cover it up.

Song Shijiu raised an arm, kneading the joints of her fingers and looking about carefully; Tu Laoyao moved a stool with a creaking clamour, not daring to drink either, only passing the fan Fu Guang towards Song Shijiu's hand, not daring to draw too deep a breath.

Even a fool could notice something strange, but it wasn't clear where this woman had come from, but if they were to meet another person as mad as that old woman from a few days ago, that would be no good; although he followed behind Fujun-daren now, and didn't fear dying, but fighting…ah, that hurt.

Li Shiyi took a small sip, and held the cup in her hand, asking, "If a spirit from years ago can't be easily reognised, then the tea of years ago, can the clients not taste it?"

Tu Laoyao's ears twitched, and he asked Song Shijiu, "What's that mean?"

"Ghost."

Song Shijiu had just barely finished, when that table began to shake with a clatter, as if a thick rope was ruthlessly pulling at it from underneath, yet that shaking only lasted a few moments, and then there was a stillness as deathly as the dead being interred, and the door slammed closed, the remnants of the doorbolt's shaking replaced by the sound of shattering behind the screen.

Pa-da, pa-da; the sound gradually grew, and a pair of elaborately embroidered shoes stepped out from behind the screen.

But only embroidered shoes.

Those embroidered shoes didn't have soles to prop up, yet the instep was still rigidly bulging out, and a few strands of light seeped through the carved beams, filtered through as cold as if they'd been dredged up from within a well; the embroidered shoes trod between the light and shadow and the mandarin ducks, their necks intersecting, seemed to have been brought to life, coming to life in the fine whine of a voice.

Li Shiyi set the teacup down.

A dozen or more silk threads attacked from the corner, scuttling in all directions like flying serpents; in the intertwining into a woven net in the room, the strands stretched taut in front of the three's faces, dredging up years' worth of dust; Li Shiyi took a look; a few silver needles hung atop, as if about to suddenly prick the strange, treacherous situation and break it apart.

Ge-da, ge-da. Song Shijiu, one hand supporting her cheek, struck the fan Fu Guang along the table, stopping and starting. It was a state of mutual hostility, swords drawn and bows bent, yet suddenly, there was a faint puffing sound; Tu Laoyao, unable to help himself, had laughed.

Li Shiyi cast a glance over, and he chuckled quietly a couple times, and shifted towards Li Shiyi, smiling. "A little ghost fighting with Fujun; ah, how novel. If you want to tell the story in a teahouse, will you say 'I wielded a great sword before Lord Guan',^[1] or 'surging waters flooded the Dragon King temple',^[2] ah?"

Li Shiyi raised the corners of her lips, yet the smiling expression didn't enter her eyes. In order to make travel easier, she'd intentionally withheld her appearance; that the average petty ghost wouldn't recognise her was within reason.

No longer desiring to be tangled up, she flicked the back of her hand towards the embroidered shoes, and yin qi wound out from her wrist, dispersing all about, the thin strands seeming to have met flames, retreating in fear and trepidation; the embroidered shoes also stood on the spot, not daring to twitch in the slightest.

The oil lamps were replenished, the light of the skies bright; the sun was no longer a pretence, and had some gold bestowed by the heavens themselves. In the brothel, the tranquility and quiet expelled the ghostly aura, returning it somewhat to the appearance of a typical courtyard. By the screen, there were the fragmented sounds of footsteps; Song Shijiu raised her eyes to look, and saw a woman standing in the shadow.

Song Shijiu widened her eyes, somewhat surprised; actually, this woman was incredibly refined, her slender figure covered in a white qipao; because she was so thin, it didn't fit her well, the bones of her wrist jutting out, her hands neatly folded before her abdomen; those hands weren't like those that had been soaked in cosmetics, but rather like hands which hend a brush and ground ink, even her face not that of a romantic scene, but rather a face which could make a pair reciting poetry.

She sighed softly, and came into the sunlight, walking before Li Shiyi, her neck held incredibly properly, yet it seemed as if she were being pulled by a thread, unable to help but repeatedly kowtow in Li Shiyi's direction. Although it wasn't clear the identity of the person before her, if it could cause a ghost to kowtow…

She knelt. "Daren."

Li Shiyi let out a low affirmative, and asked, "What name are you called?"

"Qin Niang," she said.

-

< LAST | HOME | NEXT >

 

-

Translator's notes:

[1]: To make a fool of oneself by showing off in front of an expert.

[2]: To fail to recognise a familiar person and fall into a dispute.