Chapter 78

"It's probably why the dungeons appeared — some people's thinking turned toward superstition."

The old woman sighed.

"These last few years a lot of those little temples have gone up."

The old woman: "But the strange thing is, in most of the little temples the two-faced Buddha has its evil face turned outward, and only in a very few has the good face turned round."

Liu Zhiyi thought of the Zhuan Temple in her grandmother's old home.

Liu Zhiyi: "Does the story end where they push the temple down?"

The old woman asked, "You've heard other versions?"

Liu Zhiyi: "Not really other versions — something similar happened in my grandmother's old home. Some villagers used to be simple folk: if praying to the Buddha worked they built the temple, if it didn't they turned around and pushed it down; then not long after, hearing that some Buddhas' prayers had worked, they'd build it up again…"

Sometimes Liu Zhiyi even suspected that these people, even praying to the Buddha, most likely didn't understand the sutras or the teachings at all.

Though she prayed to gods and Buddhas in much the same spirit herself.

The old woman was tickled to hear it.

"Very keen on being practical."

"That's right — last time I went back to the old home, the Land God temple had turned into a two-faced Buddha."

The thought left Liu Zhiyi rather rueful.

The old woman: "It's fine. In our people's several thousand years, no one's ever heard of praying to gods and getting immortality, or a life free of illness and trouble — in the end you still solve your own problems."

As she spoke, the pitch-black sky in the distance was suddenly torn open.

Like someone drawing back a curtain, opening a gap, a whole sky of scattered stars showed through it.

The old woman: "See — isn't that someone solving a problem? Someone's found a part of the cat's body."

At a sight like this, Liu Zhiyi's heart surged.

Days of low spirits were swept clean away.

"Then shall we hurry too?" Liu Zhiyi looked at the old woman.

As her words fell —

—Clang.

A brass gong suddenly crashed out.

Liu Zhiyi jumped, and on reflex gripped the scissors, pointing them at the sound.

Then the ground shook, like an earthquake, though the tremor wasn't strong.

A dirt road spread out from under Liu Zhiyi's feet, tree after tree of different heights standing on both sides.

In an instant it was as if she'd gone from the bustling city center to a country lane.

The old woman: "The dungeon's changed. Do any of you know this kind of road?"

Having said it, as if afraid someone wouldn't understand, the old woman quickly added:

"So many people's subconscious will affect the dungeon to a degree."

Liu Zhiyi looked closely.

She found this dirt road rather familiar — it looked like the small road that branched off the main one into the village, in her grandmother's old home.

Liu Zhiyi: "It's the road to my old home."

The old woman asked, "Anything special about it?"

Liu Zhiyi thought a moment.

"There's a temple, and the statue in it changed from the Land God to a two-faced Buddha."

Liu Zhiyi: "I heard from my grandmother that even earlier, the temple enshrined Guanyin."

Saying it, she felt rather rueful.

"The gods the village prays to keep changing."

The old woman smiled and said nothing.

—Clang.

Another brass gong sounded.

On this branching little road, several black shapes suddenly appeared.

Liu Zhiyi tensed.

The lead black figure held a red lantern; the sound of gongs and drums came over, sounding like a wedding party fetching a bride.

The old woman: "Mice marrying off a daughter?"

She'd heard this story too?

But they were all in Yiling; the folk stories should be much alike.

None of them moved.

Liu Zhiyi stared hard at the approaching shapes.

The one in the lead had two round ears on its head, a pointed snout and sunken cheeks, all gray-black.

Looked at closely — a huge rat.

This rat wore a little gold cap on its head and a monk's robe, looking like a monk, yet with all that fur it was neither one thing nor the other.

Got up like this, it didn't look much like a bridal party.

The old woman gave an "ai," seeming a little puzzled.

Behind the monk-rat followed several more mice, some of them red and green, all bright colors.

In the middle was a white mouse in a Daoist robe.

So now there were both Buddhists and Daoists.

The old woman turned her head and asked.

"Have you seen this scene? Or heard any story like it?"

Liu Zhiyi thought a moment.

"The ghost stories my grandmother told me were all pretty jumbled."

When a child pesters a grown-up for stories it never ends; Liu Zhiyi used to think her grandmother amazing, her stories never running out.

Only once she'd grown up, recalling the old stories, did she find they had plenty of logic holes.

Liu Zhiyi: "A lot of the stories she made up on the spot, and I loved asking about this and that."

So Daoism blended into Buddhism, and the mice became spirits.

She remembered it now, this story her grandmother told.

Liu Zhiyi lifted her head and looked at the cluster of mice.

"It's the story of building a temple."

"My grandmother told me that it's not just us people who have to learn to be human — the gods and Buddhas have to learn to be 'human' too."

Old people telling stories love to "slip in their own goods," working in some moral.

Liu Zhiyi smiled. "She said that to be a good person you should do many good deeds, and gods are the same, so when you make a Buddha statue you put its heart, liver, spleen, and lungs inside it."

"Filling the belly," the old woman said, her gaze falling on the cluster of mice.

Following her gaze, Liu Zhiyi saw the mice cradling different things — notes and white paper scrawled like ghost-talismans, a silver bracelet that looked like silverware, a book.

Seeing this, the old woman said.

"Your grandmother knew a little about Buddhism and Daoism, but probably not much."

"This part is probably my own understanding," Liu Zhiyi answered. "Grandma didn't explain in detail what the belly-filling was filled with; as a child I even thought it was human organs, and only after I grew up did I look it up and find that the so-called belly-filling is usually sutras, gold and silver and jewels, talismans, and the like…"

The old woman: "And the rest of the story?"

It was too long ago; some of it she couldn't quite remember.

Liu Zhiyi said uncertainly.

"…Chanting sutras?"

The mouse procession, as if it didn't see them, passed by at their side.

Muttering human voices came from their mouths, sounding like some dialect, with a "lou" trailing at the ends.

These chanting sounds pulled her at once back to the night she'd taken her mother home to be buried.

Two Daoists had chanted scriptures just like this, obscure and hard to follow.

Liu Zhiyi realized this dungeon was born of her own feelings and understanding.

And if it developed according to her feelings, this dungeon would only head toward one ending.

She raised her palm and tugged the red thread on it.

The red thread, faintly taut and unresponsive all this while, suddenly trembled a few times, as if someone were tugging the far end.

Liu Zhiyi looked up; the red line ran past the side of the mouse procession, flashing a faint red in the dark, and finally vanished into the temple by the main road.

Liu Zhiyi: "I've found the cat's body piece."

The old woman's expression turned grave in an instant; she stepped a few paces to Liu Zhiyi's front, and the group at once followed the mouse procession.

The old woman moved fast, about to overtake the mouse procession in a blink.

But the moment she stepped forward, the mice, who had ignored them, suddenly turned their heads, the gong-drum-and-chanting stopping at once.

The silence didn't last long.

—Clang.

Another crash of the brass gong, but compared to before, this one was piercing, as if struck right by her ear.

It set Liu Zhiyi's ears ringing.

"Impudent!"

Along with a scolding in a country accent —

the old woman gave a wail and pitched backward.

Liu Zhiyi startled.

She reached out to catch her; apart from her, no one moved.

Yet the old woman had clearly brought several people along.

Liu Zhiyi didn't think much of it.

The old woman looked up in years but wasn't light; her weight bore Liu Zhiyi over backward, crashing into several people in a row.

And these people went down like building blocks, all of them.

Only then did Liu Zhiyi find that their ears were bleeding — the old woman's too.

It was Liu Zhiyi's first time meeting a case of allies wounded; for a moment she didn't know what to do.

Until the old woman let out a few faint air-sounds.

"Put me… down."

Only then did Liu Zhiyi hurry to lay her flat on the ground.

Once down, the old woman suddenly twisted a few times, crying "aiyo, aiyo."

As she cried out, her color grew better and better, and the blood at her ears stopped.

Liu Zhiyi silently glanced at her watch.

Sure enough, this was the old woman's skill.

[Old Lady's Fake Fall — Full of Vigor!]

Liu Zhiyi: "…"

Before long, the old woman climbed up off the ground.

She turned and pulled a thermos from her bag, poured a cap of steaming soup, and handed it to Liu Zhiyi.

"Have a sip, get your strength back."

Liu Zhiyi drank a mouthful; as a warm stream ran down her throat, the taste of pig liver, red dates, and peanuts burst in her mouth — salty and sweet, awful to drink, but the ringing in her ears faded too.

[Old Lady's Soup — Generous Portions!]

The old woman really was something, Liu Zhiyi thought.

By the time everyone had rested up, the mouse procession had gone some distance off.

The old woman: "Girl, your ears didn't bleed just now?"

Liu Zhiyi touched her ear; compared to the state of the old woman and the others, her ears hadn't bled — just ached a little, swollen.

Liu Zhiyi shook her head.

The old woman looked rather torn, and opened her mouth.

"You…"

Liu Zhiyi saw at a glance what the old woman wanted to say but wouldn't.

"My reaction's smaller than yours. You all watch the mice — I'll go into the temple first."

Hearing this, the old woman's expression first eased, but soon tightened, as if a little guilty.

The old woman: "I'm sorry…"

Liu Zhiyi: "What's there to be sorry for? Aren't we all after the same goal?"

The old woman sighed, as if wanting to say something, but in the end said nothing, and simply stuffed the thermos into her arms.

The old woman: "If anything happens, drink the soup. It can't cure a grave wound, but it'll surely keep you alive."

Liu Zhiyi took up the thermos and ran toward the temple.

As she ran, the smell of green grass mixed with burning incense poured into her nose.

At the same time, everything around grew darker and darker.

In the end she could only run forward along the glowing red thread.

She quickly neared the mouse procession.

This time, with the gongs and drums, her ears only rang a few times, her head a little dizzy, but it didn't hamper her movements.

Just then, she suddenly heard the old woman cough a few times behind her, followed by several loud clacks of the fire tongs, then a few "thunk"s.

Liu Zhiyi looked back on reflex, and saw the old woman swinging the fire tongs, knocking the mice's heads with resounding thunks.

The old woman: "Don't look at me — go, quick!"

Liu Zhiyi ran at once.

Not long into the dark, she felt a force come suddenly through the red thread in her hand, tugging her until she near flew up off the ground.

Dragged along like that, she finally saw three points of red light.

They were the glowing tips of burning incense.

As she neared, a little temple with its doors flung open, dark inside, appeared before her.