Si Teng (Rattan) – CH 011

Chapter 11

Were there really any monsters in this world? Yan Furui thought, probably not. But this was something he could only think about in his head and never say out loud. If he did, he would be deeply sorry to his master, Taoist Master Qiu Shan.

By the time Yan Furui could remember, Taoist Priest Qiu Shan was already very old, his hair and beard gray, his back hunched, and he coughed constantly. He was dragged out for criticism every few days. The young revolutionary soldiers would smack him on the head and face with the soles of their shoes, shouting at him with reddened faces, “Superstitious feudalism! You dare claim you’ve captured demons and monsters! Only our great leader [name omitted] can truly eradicate all evil spirits and monsters! If you’ve captured any monsters, then you are opposing the people and opposing [name omitted]…”

Then he was punished by standing in the scorching sun, sweeping the streets with a broom. His health deteriorated, and he tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Yan Furui, who was smaller than a tiled house at the time, was old enough to be forced by the environment. While massaging Qiu Shan’s back, he said, “Master, can’t you just say you’ve never captured a monster?”

Later, as the environment became more relaxed, Qiu Shan began to age, trembling and unable to move. Yan Furui had no food to eat, and at such a young age, he went out to beg, often to no avail. Once, starving, he grabbed someone’s steamed bun and ran away. He was caught and beaten, and returned home in tears. He even gave Qiu Shan the half-eaten bun he was holding. Qiu Shan’s beard trembled, and his eyes reddened as he sighed. Finally, he asked Yan Furui to mail a letter for him.

About four or five days later, an elderly woman arrived. Despite her age, she was incredibly agile and energetic. Yan Furui later recalled that this elderly woman must have been someone who had some kind of spiritual training. She brought steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and ration coupons, and chatted with Taoist Qiu Shan for a long time. Yan Furui was playing in the sand outside, munching on a steamed bun, and vaguely heard the elderly woman sigh, saying, “Before, whether you were a Buddhist monk, a Taoist, or a Christian, life was difficult. But things are getting better. Master, take good care of your health; who knows, in a couple of years, the government might even build a grand temple for you.”

Taoist Priest Qiu Shan chuckled and said, “I’m old and useless now.”

The elderly woman said, “Don’t say that! If there are more monsters causing trouble in the future, we’ll have to rely on the Heavenly Master.”

Yan Furui remembered that Taoist Qiu Shan was silent for a long time, finally saying, “There are only a handful of monsters in this world that can become spirits and demons. After Si Teng, there won’t be any who can achieve such greatness.”

This was the first time Yan Furui had heard Si Teng’s name. At the time, he was young and didn’t think it was a person’s name. Later, when the elderly woman left, she mentioned it to Qiu Shan again. Perhaps because the elderly woman’s expression was too solemn, Yan Furui remembered the scene vividly.

It was drizzling that day, and a white mist covered the entire mountain. The path was still paved with bluestone, and it became muddy after just a few steps. The elderly woman was preoccupied. When she reached the foot of the mountain, she suddenly turned to look at Qiu Shan and said the following.

“Master, I shouldn’t be suspicious, but you know, Si Teng is different from other demons. Her remains refused to cremate back then, and I’ve always felt uneasy. Plus, those words she uttered before she died…”

Qiu Shan didn’t speak and didn’t even look at the elderly woman. His crusty hands, resting on his cane, trembled slightly.

“She said she’d never been defeated, her vows as solemn as a mountain. Over the years, I’ve dreamt of her face countless times. I’ll never forget that look in her eyes. Master, didn’t you find it strange? She was clearly doomed, clearly defeated by you, so why would she say that?”

Yan Furui had no recollection of what Taoist Qiu Shan said. He only remembered a grasshopper suddenly leaping out of the brush, hopping. He rushed after it, chasing it deep into the woods. By the time he returned, clutching the grasshopper’s wings, the elderly woman had vanished.

Decades passed, and this early memory had been completely forgotten until that night, when he found the old, thread-bound book amidst the ruins of the crumbling temple. Hesitantly flipping through the pages under the half-moonlight, a few lines of text suddenly caught his eye.

“Si Teng, 1910, the Great Rebellion in the Southwest…”

***

The peaceful days lasted only three days.

On the fourth day, Yan Furui was awakened by the noise of morning exercisers. Qingcheng Mountain was known as a natural oxygen bar, and there were always many morning exercisers. However, Yan Furui’s residence was not in the main scenic area, and usually only two or three people passed by. He had never experienced such a bustling scene.

He huddled in his quilt and listened for a while. He faintly heard a clicking sound similar to that of a mobile phone camera. He was very puzzled but finally put on his clothes and went out with sleepy eyes. When he opened the door, his vision was still blurry. He stumbled and fell. The crowd burst into laughter.

Someone kindly reminded him, “Take it easy. The ground is hard to walk on.”

Yan Furui finally came to his senses. He was lying on the ground, while the surrounding area became even more lively and festive; he alone was tense and sweating profusely.

“It’s vines, vines!”

The ground was covered with intertwined vines and tendrils, writhing like a mass of snakes. Some were as thick as a wine cup, while others were as thin as ginseng roots. Each tendril extended outwards, and once it touched a tree, it would wrap around it, spiraling upwards. At the top of the tree, without anything to cling to, the tendrils, covered with white blossoms, hung down, resembling a magnificent floral curtain or a giant flower crown blooming from the ground. It was an unprecedented sight, truly spectacular—no wonder so many people were stopping to watch.

Yan Furui’s heart pounded. Looking at the vines on the ground, he suddenly felt as if each one were alive, wriggling and moving. Terrified, his body bristled with goosebumps, and he screamed, leaping and pushing his way out of the crowd. Everyone burst into laughter again. Several people who looked like intellectuals were already picking at the hanging blossoms, discussing them. — “This looks like a palm tree, a monocotyledon, maybe a vine?”

— “It does look like a vine, a rattan vine. But rattan vines are usually tropical, not cold-hardy; I’ve never heard of them growing in Qingcheng Mountain.”

— “Was it here a few days ago? This must be a new species, maybe fertilized with chemical fertilizer. Look at how it’s growing! We have to protect it; it’s a great sight!”

…

Many people had no idea about plant classification; they just snapped photos, made “thumbs-up” poses, took selfies from different angles, and kept exclaiming, “So beautiful! So amazing!”

…

The crowd gradually dispersed around noon. This wasn’t the main tourist area, and the growing rattan vine wasn’t as sensational as a dinosaur reappearing. Although some people called the forestry bureau, the authorities just said they would “keep an eye on it” and then nothing more.

When Yan Furui finally snapped out of his daze, only the excited children were left, jumping around on the vine-covered ground, tying knots in the drooping vines to make a makeshift swing, and happily swinging back and forth.

Yan Furui returned to his room, trembling, and pulled out the new kitchen knife from under his pillow. The silver blade dimly reflected his pale, terrified face: Where exactly had all these rattan vines come from?

He walked to where the vines were most densely intertwined and, trembling, raised the knife.

***

Shan Zhigang called.

Qin Fang said, “Hold on a minute. I’ll find a quiet place to take the call.”

There seemed to be no quiet place; as soon as he opened the door, he was faced with the bustling night market street—grilled lamb skewers, spicy hotpot stalls, rabbit head and rabbit meat dishes, spicy spring rolls…every dish was bursting with flavor, spicy, savory, and delicious. Street-side tea shops bubbled with steaming tea, and at the end of the street, card game parlors buzzed with the clatter of cards. People lined up at the stalls, and three or four words were enough to spark lively conversations and laughter. It was truly a delightful atmosphere. The old saying, “Don’t leave Sichuan until you’re old,” had some truth to it.

Qin Fang walked for two blocks before finding a relatively quiet park. He sat down on a bench and said into the phone, “Go ahead, tell me.”

Shan Zhigang hesitated, then said, “Qin Fang, you need to be prepared.”

Qin Fang remained silent for a moment, then said, “Just say it.”

Shan Zhigang cleared his throat, seeming hesitant to speak: “Qin Fang, why do you suddenly want to investigate An Man? Has she done something wrong to you?”

Qin Fang didn’t reply. Shan Zhigang sighed on the other end. He had known Qin Fang since childhood and understood his temperament; he knew further questioning would be pointless.

“This is a lot of information, my friend; you need to stay calm—I checked with Hangzhou University, and that department doesn’t have any graduates named An Man, not even anyone with the surname An. In other words, her claimed university degree is fake.”

“Her friends, the ones she hangs out with, all seem to have only known her for a year or two. There’s no one around her who knows anything about her past.”

“And about An Man’s parents’ phone number, Qin Fang, I even went to Lixian to check. There is that landline number, and there is that elderly couple, but I asked the neighbors first, and they said the couple doesn’t have a daughter, only a son. I even went to their house and asked; the old couple denied it at first, but then I offered them some money…They finally told the truth: they were just doing it for money. They pretended to be busy answering phone calls, but their real job was to act as a facade when the future son-in-law came to visit.”

“That’s all we’ve found out so far. In short, An Man’s background before coming to Hangzhou is completely fabricated. I’ve asked my friends in Lixian to investigate further. Unless her hometown in Lixian is also fake, with a photo in hand, we can find out everything about her by going door to door in that small town. Don’t worry.”

Shan Zhigang was furious, feeling that his friend had been taken in by a woman of questionable character. He spoke with great resentment, “I told you, you should marry someone with a good background, someone you know well. This kind of ‘randomly picked’ girlfriend is definitely unreliable!”

Qin Fang held the phone and forced a smile, but then the smile faded. Before hanging up, he said, “Thank you for your help. I’ll contact you again.”

He sat for a long time before getting up and retracing his steps. He walked through the bustling street, past crowded stalls, but he didn’t hear anything. He remembered the night he first met An Man. They were playing Truth or Dare at a bar with friends. He was the one who got the dare, and his friends, with mischievous smiles, pulled out a deck of cards: “Qin Fang, come on, pick a card.”

He was already quite drunk and laughed as he picked one—the Seven of Hearts.

His friends exclaimed, “Qin Fang, the Seven of Hearts represents love! From now on, you have to ask the seventh beautiful woman who enters the bar for her phone number and try to date her at least twice!”

Later, he and An Man got engaged. He posted the news on WeChat, and everyone congratulated them. Shan Zhigang even commented, “This is a love story started by the Seven of Hearts! Fate indeed! Who would have thought that Qin Fang would pick his future wife that way!” Today, he angrily said, “Damn it, these cards drawn from the deck are truly unreliable.”

Times changed, and no one was inherently destined to know everything about another person. Two people who met on their journey—why was it so difficult to be completely honest and truly understand each other?

Qin Fang slowly opened the door.

***

Dim, soft yellow light; a narrow, cramped space; a table piled with silk fabric, measuring tapes, and chalk—and one wall dedicated to displaying finished silk cheongsams. The fabrics were exquisite, shimmering softly under the light, adorned with various patterns: phoenix tails, chrysanthemums, lutes, butterflies, and poppies—curving and swirling, like the alluring glances of a beautiful woman, each pattern vying for attention with its graceful beauty.

Qin Fang never imagined that, after traveling such a long distance to Sichuan, the first thing Si Teng would do would be to make clothes.