Si Teng (Rattan) – CH 009

Chapter 9

The fire handling procedures were quite complex, involving investigating the source, identifying the person directly responsible, and ultimately punishing them. The fire originally started in Qin Fang’s room, and he had to bear the consequences. Fortunately, the cause of the fire couldn’t be determined; it wasn’t arson, an overload, or aging wiring. Bringing upstairs recently bought cigarettes and a lighter was a major concern, but Luolong Erjia had said, “The fire started within two minutes of going upstairs and spread to several rooms. Even pouring gasoline wouldn’t have started it that quickly.”

He was temporarily cleared of suspicion, but all of Qin Fang’s personal information was recorded, and he was required to cooperate with “consultation” at any time.

When the interview was over, daybreak had begun. Some guests had been transferred to the nearby Golden Horse Hotel. When Qin Fang arrived, they were all having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. All of them were dusty, wearing hotel-provided cotton coats over their pajamas, and looking exhausted. Except for… Si Teng.

The restaurant was large, and everyone else had chosen seats in the corners. She sat right in the middle. She was clearly wearing an old military green cotton jacket, but it felt like it was a limited edition Louis Vuitton.

Many people stared at her, especially the Tibetan waitresses. Their eyes sparkled with envy. Qin Fang heard them say as he passed by, “Look how white her feet are.”

What good was white? She had a black heart!

Qin Fang had no appetite. He dragged a chair and sat down across from Si Teng. After last night, facing Si Teng again filled him with a complex mix of resentment and helplessness. He wanted to walk away, but then he felt it was not worthwhile. Was he going to sacrifice his hard-earned second life just to vent his anger? But if he bowed to Si Teng and became a slaving servant…

“Qin Fang, do you have any dreams?”

Was she talking to him? Qin Fang initially thought he’d misheard. Dreams were such an artistic topic, off the beaten path; it wasn’t something a fickle and unpredictable demon would discuss. Could it be that she was trying to use this as an excuse to teach him a lesson?

Qin Fang was wary. “What dream?”

“Everyone needs a goal in life, a purpose. Even elementary school students write about it in their essays: ‘My dream.’ What’s your dream?”

Qin Fang was silent for a moment. “I dream that I never brought An Man to Nangqian.”

At the time, it was just a vain thought. He thought traveling thousands of miles to fulfill a promise was a romantic and worthwhile thing to celebrate. He felt that life was dull, and he had to do one or two things on a whim. Now he regretted it. He came all the way here to kowtow, only to end up knocking his head off.

“That doesn’t count. It’s like spilled milk, a fact that can’t be changed. It’s called a fantasy, not a dream.”

It was a dream. If only he were truly dreaming. There would still be a chance to turn things around when he woke up.

Qin Fang, with a touch of self-mockery, asked Si Teng, “Do dreams have to come true?”

“Yes, they do, but they’re not easy to achieve.”

Qin Fang smiled wryly. “Then there’s nothing left.”

“Nothing left?”

“Nothing left.”

She was asking knowingly. In his situation, did he still have the qualifications or the leisure to discuss dreams? Qin Fang suddenly grew angry. He leaned back in his chair, met Si Teng’s gaze directly, and lowered his voice to a blunt tone, “That’s not a fantasy; it’s all a dream. I want to breathe freely, I want to leave you alive, and I want to be a human being again, no longer hiding like a dog. Can I? Can I?”

He grew increasingly agitated as he spoke, his hands grasping the table as he stood up, the veins on the backs of his hands bulging. The sound of conversation drifted faintly around him. Someone was on the phone complaining about last night’s unfortunate fire, while others were concerned about their stocks, asking, “Is the market rising? Has it gone up?”

All these voices, twisting and burrowing into his ears, only to make him feel even more miserable and hopeless. He wanted to be like them; could he?

Si Teng picked up a nearby napkin, wiped the corner of her mouth, tugged at her military coat that had slipped down her shoulders, and brushed off her collar. She casually said, “Yes.”

Qin Fang surprisingly didn’t immediately grasp the meaning of the word “yes.” He just stood there, his fingertips trembling uncontrollably. It wasn’t until the waiter came over to clear the table, clinking the dishes, that he sat down, his heart pounding.

Did he hear correctly? She had said, “Yes.”

***

As mealtime was drawing to a close, the hotel receptionist arranged rooms for guests relocated from the fire-stricken hotel. The guests, having received their room cards, returned to their rooms in groups of two or three. When they reached Qin Fang, the attendant handed him a card while apologizing, “Sorry, we’re running low on rooms. The room guest hasn’t checked out yet. Please wait in the restaurant. You can come in after 12:00.”

Qin Fang’s heartbeat was making his eardrums pound. He casually took the card and held it to a glass. The remaining water in the glass rippled, making the room number, visible through the bottom of the glass, look distorted and eerie.

188

He waited patiently for the waiter to leave, then asked Si Teng in a trembling voice, “What should I do?”

“Taoists refine elixirs, and monsters gather their energy. Strange stories often exaggerate monsters’ abilities, with stories of them overturning rivers and seas and stealing the heavens. That’s all fake. A monster’s most precious possession is a single breath of demonic energy, which can bring people back to life.”

“Since it’s so precious, they won’t give it away easily. I don’t recall ever seeing that. But your ancient novels do record it, like monsters receiving great favors and spewing out elixirs to save people. Monsters don’t have inner elixirs; those are Taoist artifacts. It’s just that breath of demonic energy they use to save people.”

Records in ancient novels? It seemed so. “Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio,” “Taiping Guangji,” and “Youyang Zazu” were always full of strange and mysterious stories full of ghosts and monsters. The well-known story of Bai Suzhen drinking red wine and revealing her true form and frightening Xu Xian to death also said she stole the immortal’s magic to save her husband. Perhaps it was the White Snake’s demonic aura that ultimately saved Xu Xian?

“Your situation has never happened before, and it shouldn’t have.”

Qin Fang’s heart suddenly jumped. The previous “Yes” was like the Buddha’s words, but this “exception” made him feel cold all over. He was like a terminally ill patient listening to the doctor’s advice. Si Teng’s every word could instantly send him to heaven or hell.

Si Teng leaned forward, her eyes flickering slightly. She was clearly smiling, yet a hint of cruelty shone in them. “Do you know why?”

Qin Fang’s lips trembled. “Why?”

“Because I am…”

She suddenly stopped talking, reached out, and overturned the half-full glass of water in front of Qin Fang. Dipping her index finger into the water, she wrote two words on the wooden tabletop.

Si Teng only knew how to write in traditional Chinese, but these two words made no difference between simplified and traditional Chinese.

Half-demon

“You saw how I crawled out of the grave? Someone drained my blood and took my life. Three thousand-year-old vines have imprisoned me for seventy-seven years. How dare I, now, call myself a demon? Even the word ‘half’ is just self-deception. As the saying goes, hair is the remainder of blood, and teeth are the remainder of bone. I am the host’s bone and blood. You are a parasite on my teeth and hair, and I am deficient in both blood and energy. How can you be at ease?”

Even after days of being bombarded with television’s vernacular, Si Teng still spoke with the graceful, articulate voice of old-fashioned women. Hearing it often enough, you’d almost feel transported, as if you suddenly stepped back into that era of dark colors, fragrant powder, long gowns and jackets paired with cheongsams, Western dresses, classical Chinese novels, and foreign pens.

The service desk was playing music for testing, the sound from the speakers fluctuating, punctuated by the harsh, long blast of electricity. Qin Fang snapped out of his momentary trance. The words “half-demon,” already faint and sparse, had practically vanished in the blink of an eye, like a fading, unspeakable secret.

“So, what’s your dream?”

“To be a demon again.”

Qin Fang stopped talking. He turned to look at the other side of the restaurant, where large floor-to-ceiling windows faced the road.

It was getting late, and the streets were filling up. There were many vehicles: creaking tricycles, speeding motorcycles, smooth-moving private cars, and whizzing trucks. Farther away, a variety of Chinese and Tibetan signs, their colors crisscrossed and vertical. All of this constituted the mundane world he had grown accustomed to in life, a world he would never again touch in death.

Now he knew he had a chance, not to live like a human, but to live with a human form. “You want to be a demon again? Is there anything I can help you with?”

Helping Si Teng was helping himself. Even if it meant groveling at her beck and call, as long as it was not for life, as long as there was a chance of success.

“Five things.”

“Which five?”

Si Teng held out her left hand, first bending her thumb toward her palm. “First, I want to learn as much as I can about you. What has the world become in seventy-seven years? What should and shouldn’t be done? What risks are worth taking? If you want to succeed, you must first observe the current situation. I understand this principle.”

He added, “Not all TV shows are worth watching, but they are still very useful.”

Qin Fang’s heart skipped a beat. Back then, she’d asked how to quickly understand modern society, and he’d perfunctorily told her to watch TV, genuinely thinking she was just killing time. It turned out that from that moment on, she had been quietly understanding, discerning, experimenting, and accepting. It turned out that from that moment on, the first step had already begun.

She truly didn’t waste a single moment.

“What’s the second one?”

Si Teng curled her index finger towards her palm. “Doing everything myself is too time-consuming. There are always some things you need someone else to do. This person must be absolutely reliable, follow my orders, accept my identity, and keep my secrets.”

Understanding, Qin Fang asked directly, “Can I?”

“If there were any other options, I wouldn’t want to use you.”

Qin Fang felt like he’d been slapped in the face. Both sides of his face burned, but he couldn’t say anything. He could only straighten his back and force himself to appear calm and composed.

“To put it bluntly, I want a loyal servant. Someone with brains, ability, and ideas, someone who cares about their master but not themselves. But such people are hard to find and require time to train. I don’t have the time. If I had to find one on short notice, I’d rather have you.”

Of course not as good as him. Prosperity and adversity were shared. No one wanted to help Si Teng become a demon again more than he did.

Qin Fang asked again, “Can I?”

“Let’s give it a try.”

That meant it was over. Of the five things, Nang Qian had already accomplished two in just a few days.

“What about the third?”

***

At almost the same time, Yan Furui took Wafang to a tofu pudding shop near Chengdu’s Old South Gate Station for tofu pudding hot pot. Wafang buried his head in his food, panting heartily. Yan Furui had no appetite. He craned his neck to look toward the station exit. One long-distance bus arrived, then another. So many people, carrying large and small bags, squeezed out of the station, but the one he was waiting for was not there.

Sighing, he reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a thread-covered book with yellowed pages. He flipped to the page he’d nearly torn apart over the past few days and stared blankly at the few lines of words on it.

“Si Teng transformed in the southwest in 1910. Originally a white vine, she was commonly known as the Ghost Rope. She was poisonous, skilled in strangulation, and ruthless, killing her own kind. She was also known as the Demon Killer. She was unrivaled at the time, undefeated by her enemies. The demons gnashed their teeth in fury, and the Taoists trembled in fear. Fortunately, in 1946, Heavenly Master Qiu Shanzhen killed Si Teng in Shanghai, drained her blood, and burned her body to ashes, eradicating this threat forever.”