CH 32

Luomei Street was the busiest street in Wolong Xian Cheng. Both sides of the street were lined with red plum trees. Every winter, especially on snowy days, the crimson plum blossom leaves would drift onto the white ground and dot the whole street like stars in the sky. The scene was famed across Wolong County for its beauty, and thus the street had been named Luomei: Falling Plum Blossoms. 

The street held inns, pawn shops, restaurants, and wine halls –– as well as all sorts of other businesses, including a handful of textile merchants, who were squeezed among shops selling accessories and makeup.

Xue Xian was a piece of work. He stayed coiled on Xuanmin's wrist and did not want others to see him, yet also refused to let the monk cover him with his sleeve, instead insisting that Xuanmin fold his sleeve just so –– allowing him to stick out his head. Soon, though, Xue Xian’s fidgeting had caused the sleeve to become undone, forcing Xuanmin to fix it again.

What kind of madman walked down a busy thoroughfare while constantly picking at his own sleeve?

At first, Xuanmin had actually heeded Xue Xian's words, but it only encouraged his bad behavior. Finally, Xuanmin glared at him, shook his sleeve loose, and covered Xue Xian entirely. No matter how much Xue Xian squirmed beneath the cloth, Xuanmin did not let him out.    

Furious, Xue Xian sulked motionless in the dark, then wordlessly bit each of the monk's fingers from the thumb to the pinky, the last of which he bit down on and refused to let go.

Xuanmin twitched his finger a couple of times, but Xue Xian did not budge. He gave up and continued walking, as though he were not the one being bitten.

When we say that Xue Xian had a short temper, it isn't completely accurate. Indeed he was quick to anger, and when he did become angry he would explode without restraint –– and he was generally a straightforward, unscrupulous person. But that didn't mean that any little thing could trigger his rage.

All of that mischief was purely to annoy Xuanmin.

At first, it was because Xuanmin had captured Xue Xian, which had been a severe blow to Xue Xian’s pride, so of course he’d needed to get back at Xuanmin in whatever way he could. But annoying Xuanmin quickly became a habit, so that if Xue Xian went some time without doing anything, he would feel weird about it. After all the peril they'd endured together, he no longer felt such animosity toward Xuanmin, and yet he could not fight the urge to harass him from time to time.

It was probably because Xuanmin was just too calm –– Xue Xian had never met anyone like him. He had to constantly wheedle Xuanmin, to see if he could find out what the bald donkey looked like when he lost his peaceful, cool composure.

He was simply bored, and liked to trouble the bald donkey to pass the time –– that was how Xue Xian saw it.

In reality, even this small, perfunctory amount of introspection was unprecedented on Xue Xian’s part. This zuzong had never tried to figure out his own motivations before, since, normally, it was one of two things: boredom or hunger. [a]

Perhaps Xue Xian really was just hungry. Lazily, he hung his head and let it swing lightly to the rhythm of Xuanmin's steps. He said, "Bald donkey, you still owe me a meal."

Xuanmin was not about to start talking to himself in the middle of the street, so he ignored Xue Xian.

But this niezhang actually stopped biting Xuanmin's finger and began to climb up Xuanmin’s sleeve with his claws, finally stopping near the shoulder. "Can you hear me? If not, I'll come to your ear."

Xuanmin: “...”

Xue Xian's claws had indeed softened considerably, just like the scales on his back. As he hooked his way up Xuanmin's arm, it did not hurt at all –- though it did tickle a bit. When Xue Xian stayed put, it was fine, but when he began to scamper... Well, it was annoying.

Xuanmin frowned. The fingers hidden beneath his sleeve twitched, and he grabbed onto the end of the niezhang’s disobedient tail, yanking him back.

As Xue Xian was dragged away, he made sure to sink his claws into the monk's arm so that he left a long, dull scratch.

Xuanmin: “...” 

Xuanmin frowned harder. He gave in and asked Xue Xian, "Why do I owe you?"

A group of townspeople happened to pass by and gave Xuanmin a strange look, probably wondering what was wrong with this muttering monk. But Xuanmin shot them a cold glare, and they hurried along.

As Xue Xian spoke, there was a tinge of resentment in his voice. "When you burst into the Jiang compound, you cost me a meal. That bookworm got up at wu geng to buy it for me from the restaurant, and it took all his effort to lug it back. They were all highly famous specialties from the restaurant. You can't get them anywhere else. We spent all that money, but before I could take a single bite, you showed up." 

Lazily, Xue Xian added in a melodious tone, [b] "Don't you think it's a shame? Shouldn't you pay me back?"

It was a perfectly reasonable argument.

Was it possible to say No to this zuzong? It would send him into yet another fit of rage.

Ahead of them was a tailor shop. At that moment, a group of people streamed past Xuanmin, so he did not dare to speak, instead only “Mn”-ing in agreement before ducking into the shop.

The owners of the shop were a middle-aged couple. The husband stood at the counter, calculating things on an abacus, while the wife held a small portable heater in her lap as she sat in the corner, crafting some kind of complicated decorative knot. 

Xuanmin's steps were silent, and his cloudy-white monk's robes, though pristine, made him look as though he were in mourning. 

The tailoress [c] glanced at the door and saw that a pure white shadow had entered. Her hands jolted.

"Aiyou, you scared me to death!" She patted her chest and looked up again, seeing that it was a young monk. But she was still surprised, and a strange look came upon her face.

It was the middle of winter, so naturally customers frequented the shop less, and today was a particularly murky day –– she even had heard that, earlier that day, there had been a curiously violent tempest near the river, sending white, foamy waves crashing against the banks; and now black clouds were returning again to cast the town in darkness, blown here by a freezing gust of north wind... A snowstorm seemed imminent, so the pedestrians in town were all in a hurry to get home. 

The tailor shop had not made a sale all day. A customer had finally come in, and it was a monk.

A monk wasn’t a customer!

The tailoress glanced at the monk's hand.

He was not holding an alms bowl, so was not here to beg for alms.    

But the tailoress still did not feel right. These years, monks had a rather special status, which had to do with the current Guoshi––

As everyone knew, the Guoshi was a monk himself; an extremely powerful one. He was said to be highly cunning and had the ability to modify the impact of feng shui arrays. He had also been alive for a very long time, and no one knew his true age. All in all, he had served five emperors in a row, and had already occupied the position of Guoshi for around a hundred years.

Commoners got to see the Guoshi only around once a year, during the annual winter solstice heavenly ritual. A great parade would flow from the capital to the foot of Taishan [d], during which the citizens of towns that the procession passed were able to take a tactful peek.

But the Guoshi always wore a silver mask in the form of a beast's face. His scarlet monk's robes were wide and loose, and hid his hands and feet. They could never see his face, nor by any means divine his age.

Someone had once solemnly claimed that the Guoshi was a yao, or some similar demon. Though one could not see his face, hands, or feet, his neck could be seen and it was not the neck of an old man. Elderly people could not avoid wrinkles on their neck, but although the Guoshi was more than a hundred years old, his body had not aged accordingly. Was that not terrifying? 

But others said that they had been witness to the Taishan ritual parade, and that the Guoshi had had wrinkles on his neck. However, these were not the wrinkles of a wizened old man –– instead, he seemed to be middle-aged.

And yet more people said that the Guoshi had long handed his title down to others, but that in order to conceal this, they all wore that same mask.

Ultimately, it was impossible to tell which of the rumors were true or false. Common people did not know anything about the mystical [e] and the unknown, so always regarded such things with awe and reverence. But appearance and age weren't the only mysterious things about the Guoshi –– his behavior was strange, too, to the point where one could not be sure if he was good or evil. There were many rumors about this in the capital ––

Some of the rumors said that the Guoshi was under a Chan [f] oath of silence: he never spoke a word, and was as cold as the snowy peak of a mountain. His servants were constantly afraid of him, and never knew whether he approved of their actions. Other rumors claimed that the Guoshi practiced the dark arts: [g] every few years, he would take in as apprentices two children who had demonstrated innate Buddhist wisdom, [h] but they would soon disappear without a trace. In terms of what would happen to the children, some said that the Guoshi would melt them into medicine or some other evil act, and they claimed that the place where the Guoshi lived would intermittently smell like fresh blood. These rumors sent chills down people's spines. Such evil was unimaginable. 

No one knew where these rumors had come from. Of course, no sane person was willing to come forward and make a formal complaint about the Guoshi, as those who had tried to oppose him in the past had never ended up well. 

Which only made people believe the rumors even more.

In addition, although the Guoshi had indeed helped the nation suppress natural disasters, each time he did so, strange things would occur afterwards. The commoners' reverence for him came with a healthy dose of fear –– they said he was the greatest yao-monk [i] of his time. If one day he were truly possessed by evil, [j] no one would be able to stop him.

At this winter solstice's ritual parade, the Guoshi had not made an appearance. Already before the festival, there had been rumors that he had encountered calamity and had been forced to seal himself away to train. [k] No one knew what had occurred –– it could range from a small obstacle to his life being in danger. After all, he had to be on the brink of death to shut himself away and miss the ritual parade! 

To this, the commoners secretly rejoiced.

Some decades ago, before all the rumors about the Guoshi had exploded, the incense smoke at all the mountain temples across the land had been thick and abundant. Along with the emergence of those temples, Buddhist monks had also begun to flood the streets. But once the rumors began to spread, the monks came out onto the streets much less.

When people needed religious or exorcist services performed, they still had to hold their noses and go into temples to ask a monk for help. But when things were peaceful, people did their best to avoid monks, and wanted nothing to do with them.

But now a monk had showed up inside the shop, and the tailoress couldn't very well chase him away. Besides, Xuanmin was blessed with a rather pleasant appearance, so as the tailoress's gaze scanned him, her face seemed to soften. She put down the decorative knot and stood up to greet him. "Is this shifu here to... purchase clothing?"

Inside, the tailoress thought, I didn't know monks bought their robes at tailor shops.

"Yes." Xuanmin did not elaborate. He looked around at the clothes hanging in the shop. [l]

The tailoress pressed her portable heater closer. What a cold monk! I’m trying to greet him with warmth, but he’s lowering the temperature of the whole shop.

Her husband was of the slow kind. He rubbed his eyes, lifted his head from the abacus, and said, "What kind of clothes would the young shifu like? Our humble shop has never made monk's robes before, but if you need some, I am sure that we can make them overnight. All we need to do is take the shifu’s measurements."

"No need," said Xuanmin.

The tailoress: “...” How was she supposed to do business with someone who would barely say a word to her?

Xuanmin had clearly never stepped foot inside such a shop before. As he stood there in his stiff white robes, he looked entirely out of place. He reached for the closest rack, full of winter overcoats, checked the items' sizes, and tried to remember what the niezhang had looked like in his human form. He planned to simply pick out a suitably sized coat and pay for it.

But the zuzong curled on his wrist was not happy.

"These coats are thick enough to block a hole in a city wall! If I put it on, I might as well roll around everywhere." Xue Xian said, disgusted. "I don't want it. If you buy this, you can wear it yourself!"

He knew that they did not dare to make a commotion inside the shop, so his low voice had snaked through Xuanmin's sleeve into the monk's ear.

Still clutching her portable heater, the tailoress observed Xuanmin for a while, then looked at the rack of coats that he was browsing. Suddenly, she understood. "Shifu is purchasing on someone's behalf?"

“Mn," Xuanmin said without taking his eyes away from the coats.

"Are there any special requirements or preferences?" The tailoress thought for a while, then added, "If I may ask, what kind of person is shifu buying the clothes for? Perhaps I can help to select some pieces."

Xuanmin's gaze now turned to a robe with an... eye-assaulting color, then recalled Xue Xian's excitable personality. He decided to go for a quick sketch of the dragon's character: "A pheasant who likes to chase after people in order to peck them."

The tailoress: “...”

Xue Xian: “...”

The slow tailor gazed upon Xuanmin with a pair of smiling eyes. He pointed at the garish robe. "The robes right there might be appropriate. They are of a bright color, and make one look fresh."

The robe seemed to have a little bit of every color, as though it had been ripped from a mountain chicken. Indeed it seemed to match Xue Xian.

Xue Xian ominously said, "If you have a death wish..."

In the end, under the bullying bites of the zuzong, Xuanmin purchased three sets of clothing. They were all black, and about as thin as Xuanmin's own white robes. When Xuanmin placed them on the shop counter, they created a startling contrast with his own outfit.

As the tailoress wrapped up the purchase for her customer, she could not help but feel a sense of cold emanating from him. She hugged the portable heater closer.

Xuanmin placed some silver on the counter, and the tailoress’ mouth dropped. Clearly, this monk had not been out of the temple much, and had no idea what things cost at market. A home in this county only cost about twenty liang of silver –– who in the world would pay the same amount for three sets of robes?

The tailor silently came over and weighed the silver on his scales, then told his wife how much change in copper to return to the monk.

As Xuanmin rested his hand on the counter, Xue Xian happened to see the decorative knot that the woman had been working on.

He studied the half-finished design for a while, then clawed at Xuanmin. While the couple were distracted, he scampered up to Xuanmin's shoulder and said, "Pleasant surprise. Look at the knot –– don't you think it looks just like the design on that stone lock?"

The stone lock was extremely heavy and could not be carried around. Xuanmin had therefore borrowed some of the crude instruments in the Lu house to make a quick rubbing of the carving. Now, Xue Xian, who had spent so long inside Xuanmin’s pouch that he’d begun to call it home, invited himself into the pouch again and grabbed the folded-up rubbing, as well as the pile of dog tags that they'd found in the river.

Thankfully, all of these items were very small, or else, stuffed into the pouch, they would have weighed Xuanmin's robes down so much that his clothes would have torn.

Xuanmin took the rubbing from the pouch and compared it with the knot ––

The design on the piece of paper resembled a totem: [m] it was round, with an insect-like beast perched on the top –– a bat or something –– and then a cloud design at the bottom.

And the half-finished knot had some major differences to that carved totem, so that at first glance they were certainly not identical. But upon closer inspection, there were many similarities –– although the carved beast had been outlined primitively and had a violent aura, whereas the tailoress' version was far softer and gentler-looking.

Xue Xian and Xuanmin had never seen such a design before and had been prepared to undertake a highly difficult investigation –– they had not expected to come across a clue so quickly.

"What is this decorative knot for?" Xuanmin said as he folded up the paper and tapped the counter.

The tailoress had just been counting up the change. "Oh," she replied. "It's a good-fortune knot for peaceful and prosperous life."

She raised her head and saw Xuanmin's questioning look, and added, "It's unusual, right? I learned this pattern a few years ago. I had never seen it before, either, but it really is effective. My child wears this knot and has already avoided several disasters. But the string constantly wears down."

"Where did you learn it from?" Xuanmin asked.

"Stone Zhang's wife." Then the tailoress remembered that Xuanmin was not a local and explained, "Stone Zhang [n] is a famous stonemason in our county. His carvings are excellent, and he is often commissioned by laoyes from the capital. His wife is a talented craftswoman too, and likes to make all kinds of beautiful ornaments. I learned it from her."

Stone Zhang?

Xue Xian recalled the stone lock at the bottom of the river. Stone there, stone here... that couldn't be a coincidence.

Naturally, Xuanmin did not miss this either. He took up the wrapped clothing and his change, and asked, "Where does Stone Zhang live?"

"If you follow this street east and turn into Hugua Alley, it's the set of doors with the pile of stone outside it."

Stone Zhang was famous across all of Huizhou Prefecture, and many came from far and wide to order carvings from such a skilled shifu. So the tailoress was not suspicious about Xuanmin's question, and happily gave him the directions.

Unlike Xue Xian, Xuanmin was not hopeless with directions. He left the shop, took a handful of turns, and soon reached Hugua Alley.

It was just as the tailoress had said: standing at the mouth of the alley, it was easy to spot the home with a small mountain of stone piled in front of it.

Xuanmin walked to the doors and knocked.

But there was no movement behind the doors...

"Is this young shifu here for Stone Zhang?" a passing middle-aged man asked. "He's not home. I live in the courtyard next to his. His home has been empty for half a month. No lanterns have been on, and there's been no noise. Perhaps he's been commissioned by a laoye who lives far away again."

Then the middle-aged man mumbled, "But his wife isn't around either. Maybe she went to visit relatives? I don't know, but in any case it's useless to knock on the door. Lots of people have showed up in the past two weeks and have all had to go home. Why don't you come back some other time?"

He looked up at the overcast sky and hurried away, soon disappearing into a set of doors down the street.

Xuanmin turned back to the doors and stood there, his hands hanging limply by his side.

Xue Xian twitched his claws, feeling unwell. Seeing that no one was around, he stuck his head out of the sleeve and took a deep breath.

Xuanmin prodded Xue Xian’s pointy tail and frowned. "Why are you so hot all of a sudden?" 

"I'm not just hot. I feel so swollen as well." Xue Xian's long tongue swung out of his half-open mouth. He looked as though he were about to pass out.

This feeling was not unfamiliar to Xue Xian. The last time he had felt so hot had been in the tomb at Gravestone Island. The result had been his return to his physical body. Now that this feeling had come back, how could he ignore it?

Panting heavily, Xue Xian said, "Please, could you knock down the door? Or go over the wall. Stone Zhang is hiding something in here."

Xuanmin: “...”

Xue Xian thought about it, then added, "Once you're inside, could you find an empty room to put me in? Give me the clothes too."

Xuanmin's palm was already pressed against Stone Zhang's door, ready to push. As he heard Xue Xian's request, he stopped and asked, "Why?"

Xue Xian laughed drily. "I feel so swollen and uncomfortable that I don't think I'm able to maintain this form for much longer. If I don't turn into a human, then I'll have to turn into my original form and crush half of Wolong County to pieces. And you, young monk, will become a pancake."

Xuanmin: “...”

---

The author has something to say: 

Sorry sorry~ It’s ready. Tomorrow evening at 8pm, as normal, I will continue with a long one~ 

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[a] Again, here, for ‘boredom’, Musuli uses the Chinese phrase “someone who has eaten too much and is feeling full”, so the overall sentence plays on the contrast between this metaphor and the feeling of hunger.

[b] The more accurate translation here might be “in a sing-song voice”, but it didn’t feel like it fit with the rest of the prose’s tone.

[c] Musuli refers to the woman as 老板娘 (lao3 ban3 niang2), literally “boss woman”. This is used to refer to a female business owner. However, there isn’t an accurate translation of this phrase, so I went with a specific label for her profession.

[d] I have translated “shan” into Mount/Mountain for the rest of this novel’s locations, but Taishan sounded better in full pinyin, in part because it is a famous mountain (see glossary).

[e] Musuli uses 神秘 (shen2 mi4) here, which means “mysterious” but which contains 神, meaning god or things that are generally magical/divine. 

[f] Chan Buddhism, which was most dominant in China during the Tang and Song dynasties, is more commonly known in English via its Japanese name, Zen. 

[g] Musuli uses 邪术 (xie2 shu4) here, literally “evil/heretic arts/techniques”.

[h] Musuli uses 佛性 (fo2 xing4) here, literally “Buddha/Buddhist type/personality/nature” -- i.e. some kind of innate affinity towards Buddhism, closeness to Buddhist ideals, or supernatural/magical connections to the Buddha.

[i] Yao-monks or other yao-immortals are a historical fantasy trope: many magical practitioners who are religious (eg Daoist cultivators and Buddhist monks) seek immortality. The wisest may achieve immortality through cultivation, but it is also possible to become an evil immortal by practicing dark arts or following qi deviation. This is described as “turning/becoming/nearing yao”. For instance, the Russian figure Rasputin is popularly known in Chinese as a “yao-monk” 妖僧 (yao1 seng1). 

A quick note about qi deviation that I’ll mention again when it becomes relevant is that, in Chinese, this is known as 走火入魔 (zou3 huo3 ru4 mo2) literally “walk fire, enter demon” or “be consumed by fire, be possessed by demons”. It is used to generally describe that something has gone wrong during spiritual, martial arts, or mystical training. It is known as “qi deviation” in qigong, which is a set of folk Chinese practices that relate more closely to Daoism than to Buddhism. This is why 走火入魔 is translated as “qi deviation” in MXTX’s works, where the magic system is rooted in Daoist cultivation, as opposed to Copper Coins, which, as discussed, mixes Daoist and Buddhist references into a more generally secular geomancy-based magic system.

All in all, 走火入魔 can happen for many reasons, including practicing techniques without proper guidance from a teacher or using the wrong texts (i.e. not usually a mood-provoked issue), and can result in hallucinations and physical pain as well as, eventually, death. I will only occasionally be using “qi deviation”, especially because, for characters like Xue Xian, whose magical powers come from his nature as a mythical creature and not from intentional practice/cultivation, the term is fundamentally inaccurate. 

[j] Musuli uses the phrase 邪病发作 (xie2 bing4 fa1 zuo4), “activation of evil/heretic illness”. Following from the previous footnote, this could be a way of describing 走火入魔, wherein the Guoshi is punished for flirting with evil by becoming possessed by it. 

[k] Musuli uses 潜修 (qian2 xiu1) here, meaning “hidden cultivating/training”. 

[l] Absolutely howling at the idea of modern ready-to-wear clothing stores dedicated to ordinary rural townspeople in the 11th century... 

[m] The Chinese word 图腾 (tu2 teng2) is a transcription of the word “totem”, originating from Yan Fu’s translation of Edward Jenks’ A History of Politics (1903), according to Baidu.

[n] Stone Zhang’s Chinese name is 石头张 (shi2 tou zhang1), literally “Stone Zhang”. This is a nickname that comes specifically from his profession as a stonemason, and I thought it would be slightly confusing if I went with the transcription “Shitou Zhang”, so I have kept it like this.