Si Teng (Rattan) – CH 012

Chapter 12

“Qingcheng Mountain truly deserves its reputation as one of the four great sacred mountains of Taoism in China, and the fifth of the ten sacred caves. No wonder the Taoist Heavenly Master Zhang Daoling chose to spread his teachings here and eventually ascended to immortality. The morning mist was like a dream, a soft veil. I couldn’t contain my excitement, standing before the Heavenly Master’s Cave, my mind full of thoughts. The world changes constantly, but this tranquil Qingcheng Mountain remains serene, carrying the essence of Taoism within our Chinese culture. All of this deeply inspired me. I vowed to myself that on this path of promoting and spreading our teachings, I must keep going, never give up…”

Wang Qiankun had finished editing his blog post but hesitated to post it. He kept rereading it, carefully choosing his words. As a Taoist priest participating in cultural exchange, his writing carried great responsibility. First, it had to reflect the qualities of a modern Taoist—elegant and fluent writing. Second, it had to promote positive energy and serve as an example for other Taoists who couldn’t attend. Third, he had to consider the relationship with other Taoist communities; he couldn’t overpraise Qingcheng Mountain, as they were all important Taoist sites, requiring a balanced approach. And finally, including a few English phrases would be even better, reflecting the current trend of global cultural exchange…

Wang Qiankun was intently staring at the screen. His phone rang, but he didn’t even glance away. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

“Hello?”

Yan Furui’s angry voice, mixed with the loud, buzzing sound of a motor: “Master Wang! A monster! A monster!”

***

Wang Qiankun didn’t want to bother with Yan Furui, so he was about to hang up. But just as he pressed the button, he changed his mind.

A Taoist priest from Wudang Mountain, helping local Taoists overcome superstitious beliefs during his stay at Qingcheng Mountain—what a great way to enhance the image of Taoist priests from Wudang Mountain! This also indirectly reflected that during his interactions with the public, he didn’t adhere to conventional norms but rather actively engaged with the people, promoting positive energy…

Then he would embellish this experience slightly and post it on various portals such as the Chinese Taoist Association website and the Wudang Taoist Association website…

…

An hour and a half later, all of Wang Qiankun’s grand dreams were gone. He stood in the open space, littered with branches and vines, staring blankly at a hole in the ground. It had been dug out from between the broken tiles and bricks of the dilapidated temple. Several vines, as thick as an arm, hung over the entrance. After a while, he looked up at the floral curtains hanging from the trees around him: Did all of this grow from underground…from this hole?

Yan Furui, with a small power saw strapped to his back, spoke in a trembling but excited voice, ramblingly explaining, “I’m such an idiot! After the Tianhuang Temple was blown up, the rubble just stayed there, and I never thought about clearing it… Then suddenly all these vines grew, so I started cutting them, and then… WHAM!”

He described it vividly, even with gestures, and the sudden outburst made Wang Qiankun’s scalp tingle with fear.

“WHAM! Bricks and tiles fell down, and I saw this huge hole! Look! Right here!”

He grabbed Wang Qiankun’s sleeve: “Master Wang, Master Wang, come down, go inside, there’s something in the hole, I’ll show you!”

Wang Qiankun almost peed his pants. In the middle of the night, this guy looked like a madman, with a terrifying expression, dragging him into a mysterious hole. Would he dare to go in? Yan Furui tried to grab Wang Qiankun twice but failed. He became impatient and wanted to show him more compelling evidence. He swung the chainsaw he was carrying forward: “Look!”

His movement was a bit too forceful, and somehow he accidentally turned on the switch. Wang Qiankun had just noticed the bloodstains on the chainsaw blade when it roared to life.

Wang Qiankun’s mind exploded, thinking, “Damn it! There’s blood on the chainsaw! He must have killed that kid named Wafang first, and now he’s coming after me! This guy is a real-life Texas Chainsaw Massacre killer from Qingcheng Mountain!”

In this life-or-death situation, he couldn’t care less about maintaining his image as a Wudang Taoist priest. He roared and turned to run. Yan Furui had just turned off the switch when he saw Wang Qiankun running faster than a wild horse. He became even more anxious.

“I was hoping Master Wang would help me fight evil, but now he’s running away! I still have things to say!”

Yan Furui chased after him. The heavy chainsaw made him sway from side to side, so he hugged the motor to his chest: “Master Wang, don’t run! Let’s talk!”

Wang Qiankun glanced back amidst his frantic running. Under the dim moonlight, Yan Furui, radiating murderous intent, ran towards him with a gleaming chainsaw. Wang Qiankun almost burst into tears. “Oh no, this is my fate! Heavenly Master, I came to Qingcheng Mountain for study and exchange!”

***

Fortunately, there was always hope. Near the foot of the mountain, a car approached. Its two yellow headlights shone directly at them. Wang Qiankun stood in the middle of the road, frantically waving his arms and shouting, “Stop! Stop the car!”

As they would say, there were still good people in this world. The car slowed down and actually stopped in front of him. The car door opened, and a tall, well-built man stepped out, around 27 or 28 years old, wearing a black, high-collared wool coat. He had a slight smile on his face and an air of nonchalance—young people these days were so careless and lacked awareness of danger; you’d think they were just picking up a hitchhiker! Something could really go wrong!

Wang Qiankun was about to rush over and push him back into the car when Yan Furui called out from behind.

To be fair, Yan Furui, though sometimes a bit clueless, wasn’t exactly stupid. He realized what had happened as he chased after them. Seeing Wang Qiankun blocking the car, he stopped and called out from the foot of the mountain:

“Master Wang, you’ve misunderstood!”

“I really want you to see something. That cave… you’ll understand once you go down and see it.”

“This is a matter for our Taoist sect; we don’t want to scare the common people.”

“This is important; you really should come and see it. I believe that if Master Li Zhengyuan were still alive, he would have wanted you to see it too.”

…

After recovering from his initial shock, Wang Qiankun realized he had been overreacting. He didn’t care about losing face in front of the other Taoist monks; Yan Furui had a point—they shouldn’t scare the locals.

He felt embarrassed and didn’t know how to smooth things over. Qin Fang looked at Yan Furui and then at Wang Qiankun, offering him a way out: “Master, are you… cutting wood in the middle of the night?”

Wang Qiankun chuckled nervously: “Cutting wood… hehe… cutting wood…”

He bowed apologetically and started walking away. Just as he took two steps, a woman’s voice called out from behind: “Little Taoist Priest.”

Little Taoist Priest?

Wang Qiankun instinctively turned around and saw the rear door of the car slowly opening. Someone was getting out, leaning against the door. The moment he saw who it was, Wang Qiankun felt like he had stepped through a time portal. He was a Taoist priest, that’s true, but that didn’t mean his daily entertainment consisted solely of the Tao Te Ching or the Zhuangzi. He watched movies and TV like everyone else. The woman’s attire immediately reminded him of the glamorous, cosmopolitan atmosphere of old Shanghai.

She wore silver-gray high-heeled shoes with sparkling rhinestones; the heels were very high and slender, and as she stepped, the delicate arch of her snow-white foot was exquisitely graceful. Almost simultaneously, Wang Qiankun noticed she was wearing a cheongsam—not a thick, lined winter cheongsam, but a sheer, almost transparent silk one, the silk so soft and smooth. The hem gently brushed her bare calves below the knees.

Over the cheongsam, she wore a lustrous sable coat. If Wang Qiankun knew his furs, he would recognize it as top-grade sable, often called “soft gold.” The old saying, “The wind blows, the fur becomes warmer; snow falls, the fur absorbs the snow,” perfectly described it. The finest sable was incredibly light and soft; it was said that the best baby sable fur could be compressed into a small cup.

Her hair was elegantly styled, but no hairpins were visible. The bun was loose and perfectly shaped, and the strands of hair framing her face were seemingly meticulously arranged—no hair stylist in the world could rival this.

Qin Fang had even seen her style it herself! Straight, wavy, or any complex style—her hair seemed to have a life of its own, effortlessly weaving and intertwining. When Qin Fang first saw it, he was stunned. But then he thought, she was originally a vine; no matter how complex human braiding techniques were, they couldn’t compare to the natural growth and intertwining of vines. Monsters truly did have special abilities!

If Si Teng were to settle down and open a hair salon, she’d surely be incredibly successful. In modern society, people valued style and individuality in their clothing; retro and eclectic styles were commonplace, and it was not unusual to find someone else dressed similarly. But strangely, when others wore such outfits, it just looked like ordinary clothing. However, when she wore it, the surrounding scene seemed to shimmer and blur, as if raising her hand brushed against the past, and taking a step forward transported you to an old era.

“Wait a minute,” Wang Qiankun snapped out of his initial daze. What did she just call him? “Little Taoist Priest?”

She looked four or five years younger than him, so why was she calling him “Little Taoist Priest”?

A different light began to shine in Si Teng’s eyes. She smiled at Wang Qiankun: “I seem to have heard someone mention… Taoist Master Li Zhengyuan?”

Wang Qiankun replied without hesitation, “That’s my great-grandmaster.”

He only realized how strange that was after he’d said it. Even if this woman had said she was a demon, it wouldn’t have shocked him as much: “You know my great-grandmaster?”

“I visited Wudang Mountain many years ago and saw the calligraphy he inscribed on the gate: ‘Adhere to the Dao, value virtue, and achieve harmony between Heaven and Man.’ His brushwork was powerful, and the energy flowed continuously; the old Taoist Master had such beautiful calligraphy!”

“My great-grandmaster’s calligraphy is on the gate of Wudang Mountain?” Wang Qiankun had never noticed any calligraphy on the gates of Wudang Mountain, but if she said it was there, it probably was. He had never met Li Zhengyuan nor seen his calligraphy, but hearing someone praise his great-grandmaster made him feel incredibly pleased. Wang Qiankun beamed, “You flatter me, my lady. My great-grandmaster truly… had great skill in calligraphy.”

Qin Fang didn’t miss the fleeting hint of mockery in Si Teng’s eyes. After Wang Qiankun left, he asked Si Teng, “Li Zhengyuan’s handwriting isn’t very good, is it?”

“Years ago, I received a letter he personally handed to me.”

Si Teng’s eyes grew deep in thought, as if trying to recall something. “Back then, people were very formal; even insults were delivered with decorum. I stood there, and he pretended to hand me a formal document, a long, rambling letter of over a thousand characters, accusing me of disrespecting the gods, defying morality, and being a blood-sucking leech, a plague on humanity. It was full of quotes from ancient sages, but the worst part was his handwriting—like scratches from a chicken’s claw, like a ghost’s scrawl. It must have made Confucius and the inventor of writing weep!”

This spirit, when she got angry, could be quite intimidating. Qin Fang found it amusing, yet also somewhat worrying. Si Teng was quite vindictive, and since that Taoist priest was related to Li Zhengyuan, his situation didn’t seem good—he wondered if Si Teng would have had further conflict with Li Zhengyuan after reading that letter.

“And then? Did you write back?”

“No, I glanced at it and told him I couldn’t read.”