Si Teng (Rattan) – CH 004

Chapter 4

The next day’s sunlight was particularly bright, and Qin Fang finally confirmed that he was indeed dead.

His heart lay still, as calm as a deep well; his chest didn’t move. The sharp spike that pierced his heart looked like a piece of rotten wood, its surface covered with green mold from wind and rain. The steel car was crumpled as if crushed by a giant hand; the windows were shattered and gone. Sometimes the wind blew in, rustling the half-torn tissue paper beside him.

So this was what it felt like to be dead.

Qin Fang was a materialist, never believing in ghosts or spirits. He believed that the spirit existed only within the body, and that with the body’s destruction, the spirit perished—a belief he had held for over twenty years, now shattered by reality.

So, after death, besides the cessation of breathing, one could still be conscious, still think and remember; the eyes could see, and the ears could hear. The mountains were quiet; occasionally, he could hear vehicles on the road above. Each time, Qin Fang felt a strange excitement, as if he still had some connection to the world of the living.

But most of the time, there was only deathly silence.

Were all the dead like him? Thinking about this question made one’s skin crawl; how terrifying it must be, that vast, bustling world of living people, surrounded by countless silent, watchful eyes, observing your every move 24/7. While you confidently proclaim, “Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know,” someone nearby, perhaps right beside you, was watching intently, a mocking smile playing on their lips.

A smile from the dead.

The ancient saying, “Above your head, three feet away, there are spirits,” wasn’t meant as a threat, was it? Perhaps those “spirits” referred to these cold, smiling souls?

Compared to the hurried, busy lives of the living, time for the dead seemed incredibly long, spent lying down or pondering. Initially, Qin Fang was extremely anxious and worried—what about An Man? Would those scoundrels torment her? Had she died too? He’d promised his business partner he’d only be gone a few days; he had a crucial project meeting next Monday; it was the end of the month, and his credit card payment was due—a bad credit score would make it difficult to get a large loan in the future…

On the third or fourth night, Qin Fang suddenly understood.

A wolf had wandered near the car, sniffing and circling it, but strangely, never approached. Then it stopped nearby, its pink tongue licking something on the ground. The wind was gentle, rustling the grass. At that moment, Qin Fang abandoned all his worries.

What good was worrying? He was dead; he was powerless. He lay peacefully in the dark world of the dead, completely detached from the vibrant world of the living.

At that moment, he felt an urge to cry. During his lifetime, he often complained about various things and jokingly told his friends, when bored, “My life is so mundane; I only think about three things a day: what to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—that’s it!”

But now, that would be an unimaginable luxury. What would he eat tomorrow morning? He just wanted a bowl of soy milk and a fried egg, maybe even some of that extra-seasoned beef and egg porridge from KFC, which he used to disdain so much…

While thinking about these things, he lay there, a cold, silent corpse. But if you looked closely, you might see a fleeting glimmer of tears in his eyes.

All the endless desires and ambitions he had while alive suddenly seemed meaningless. Now, as a dead man, in this very moment, he only wanted…to be alive again.

***

Late December 2013, Du’an District, Sichuan Province, on the outskirts of Mount Qingcheng.

Yan Furui, sporting a Taoist hairstyle, was pushing a cart selling grilled skewers with his six-year-old disciple, Wafang, back to the temple. Just as they reached the foot of the mountain, they saw a group of people on the path halfway up. Several lean men were pointing at blueprints or something similar, while those looking at the plans stood with their chests puffed out, their suits bulging, nodding their heads in satisfaction. Then they looked up at the mountain, gesturing broadly with their arms, as if reciting a poem.

Yan Furui’s anger flared. He pushed the cart forward briskly, the metal utensils clanging inside. He headed straight for the men in suits. “Move aside! Move aside!” he shouted.

Wafang’s hair wasn’t long enough for a Taoist hairstyle, so he wore his hair in a simple braid. He followed Yan Furui, scowling and shouting, “Move aside! All of you, move aside!”

The men in suits hastily moved to the side of the path. Yan Furui strode past them, but then someone called out from behind, “Master Yan!”

Yan Furui thought to himself, “Developers’ lackeys!” As they say, master and disciple were like family. Before Yan Furui could even utter a swear word, Wafang started yelling in a high-pitched voice: “You idiot! I’ll f*** you up!”

This was unacceptable. He must have picked up that language from hanging around with some hoodlums. Yan Furui slapped Wafang on the back of the head: “Behave! Maintain your composure!”

Just then, Engineer Song arrived, smiling broadly and offering Yan Furui a cigarette. Yan Furui haughtily replied, “I don’t smoke.”

This Engineer Song had been in contact with him since last month. Ever since Yan Furui learned Song’s intentions, he had a bad feeling about him.

Everyone knew Mount Qingcheng was beautiful. The tourism slogan was “Visit Dujiangyan, explore the Taoist teachings at Mount Qingcheng.” Zhang Tianshi, the founder of Taoism, preached here during the Eastern Han Dynasty. Developers even came up with slogans like “Exclusive five-star luxury, the tranquility of Mount Qingcheng in your room”—a resort here was understandable…

But!

Why should they demolish his place?

His Tianhuang Temple was a Taoist temple passed down from his ancestors. Demolition is impossible! While selling his grilled skewers today, a guy selling lamb kebabs next to him gave him some advice: “At any time, forced demolition is unacceptable! Master Yan, you must fight to the death! Gather your fellow Taoists; we’re all one big family! I can post a message on Weibo; if it gets 500 shares, it will get attention! You can go on a hunger strike outside the government building or even go to Beijing to appeal to Xi Jinping!”

Damn it, he wouldn’t even take a cigarette! Engineer Song was getting angry; did he really think he hadn’t done any research? He cleared his throat: “Old Yan, don’t make things difficult for us. We can negotiate the price, right?”

“I’ve done my research, and you’re not even a real Taoist priest! You’re running around all day with that hairstyle, and if I report you, you’ll be ruining the image of Taoist priests in China!”

“And that ‘Tianhuang Temple’ of yours—just a small temple with a thatched-roof building behind it—you told me you wanted to apply for World Heritage status, even national protection! I checked; that thatched-roof building was built in 2007, and that little temple was built after liberation. You just put a sign that says ‘Tianhuang Temple’ on it, and that makes it a temple? Why don’t you write ‘Zhongnanhai’ on it?”

He glanced at the dilapidated thatched-roof building next to him and added sarcastically, “And this building here, its origins are suspicious; who knows if it was even built legally…”

Yan Furui was furious, his eyes blazing with anger: “I’ll fight you!”

He grabbed the large pot of skewers and threw it at Song Gong, but the pot was too heavy and fell to the ground halfway. Seeing the fight about to start, Song Gong turned and ran downhill, the pot rolling after him. The man from the thatched-roof building stared wide-eyed and shouted, “You son of a…”

Then he remembered he should maintain decorum and swallowed the rest of the words. Yan Furui slapped him on the back of the head: “Don’t be afraid! Curse him! Curse him good!”

***

A few skewers were left, so they mixed them with rice and made two bowls for dinner. The two men sat in front of the small temple, eating. The man from the thatched-roof building was hungry and ate eagerly, while Yan Furui couldn’t swallow a bite. He was so worried about everything, he was practically dying of worry. First, there’s the Tianhuang Temple. It wasn’t exactly a valuable historical relic; it was just a few old bricks and tiles, barely worth anything. But it was left behind by his master, Taoist Qiu Shan, before his passing. As a disciple, shouldn’t he protect this place for his master? Besides, he’d lived there since childhood; where would he go if it were demolished?

Second, there was the issue of Wafang’s education. Wafang was found by him; the small temple was being rebuilt at the time, and he simply named the boy after the building. He’d planned to send Wafang to school in a couple of years, but given Wafang’s current state, it was urgent. Early childhood education was crucial; it would be much harder to change his character later…

Wafang, halfway through his meal, suddenly remembered something: “Master, I wasn’t kidnapped, right? You found me, just like your master found you?”

Yan Furui nodded. “Yes.”

Thinking back to how Taoist Qiu Shan had cared for him, Yan Furui sighed: “I was about your age back then…”

He paused, glanced down at Wafang’s small nose and eyes, and couldn’t help but feel a little disdain, adding, “But you’re much more handsome than him.”

Wafang took another bite, thought for a moment, and then asked, “Then why do I look so ugly now?”

…

Damn it! Respect for teachers and elders, right? Education was an urgent matter!

***

These two issues had kept Yan Furui awake all night. He grabbed the old-fashioned cellphone by his pillow and looked at the time—almost midnight.

He sighed, rolled over, and looked out the window. The moon was just rising, a perfect half-moon. Yan Furui calculated the date—a waning crescent moon, probably the 22nd or 23rd of the lunar month…

Before he could finish calculating, there was a loud explosion. The small, dark temple outside the window vanished instantly. Countless pebbles and rocks of various sizes crashed against the walls of the house, making a loud clattering sound. Yan Furui froze for about five seconds, then suddenly jumped up from bed.

Damn developers! They must have planted a bomb in the little temple while they were out selling their street food!

He roared. “You idiots, I’ll fight you!”

***

It was said that on the first day of the lunar month, the sun and moon would rise simultaneously. On the 15th day of the lunar month, the moon would rise when the sun would set. After that, due to the moon’s orbit, the moon rises 52 minutes later each day.

In late December, on the 23rd day of the eleventh lunar month, during the waning crescent moon phase, the moon would rise at midnight.

Qin Fang remembered clearly that when the crescent moon appeared in the sky, his heart suddenly started beating again.

At first, his heart muscle only contracted slightly, contracting and relaxing rhythmically. He thought it was just a feeling, but gradually, he heard a thumping sound, and even the sharp stake that pierced his heart seemed to be vibrating slightly.

A slight tremor came from beneath him. The ground surface cracked in all directions, and countless insects and ants scattered in every direction. Even snakes that were hibernating underground slithered out of the ground, joining the panicked creatures. From the dense forest in the distance came the rustling of wings as startled night birds flew blindly, some even crashing into tree trunks.

Qin Fang listened quietly.

The heartbeat wasn’t just his.

Behind him, underground, there was another.