Chapter 2

The fallen city, the old temple. The old tree, baked dry, came crashing down.

The scrawny little slip of a girl, thin-haired and withered, coughed twice. She propped her legs comfortably on the old threshold, leaned against the doorframe, sipped her wine, and hummed some nameless nursery rhyme under her breath.

Two lifetimes, storms and rains and all she'd seen of the world — when a person met a truly big thing, the possessions outside the body were of no use at all. No amount of money could buy back her An'er's life.

The old eunuch sat stunned a long, long while, then looked Qi Qian'er up and down with a straight, serious eye. After a good while he asked, in earnest: "Girl — is it not a good thing, to be rich enough to rival a kingdom?"

Qi Qian'er curled her lip and laughed softly: "I'm a woman of the inner court. I couldn't hold on to wealth like that."

For all the world a thin-haired girl not even grown into her looks, and here she was calling herself a woman of the inner court.

The old eunuch thought there was something uncanny about her. But these were chaotic times, and he had seen Heaven's punishment with his own eyes, and here they were in a temple, and the girl was strange — so in his heart he granted Qi Qian'er a touch of the divine.

After some serious thought he asked, carefully: "Then may I ask — girl — what is it you want?"

Half her body rocking as if astride a horse, Qi Qian'er swayed a while, then set down the gourd, raised one bloodied arm, pointed it at the heavens, and said: "Me? I just want to be bold enough to swallow the sky!"

Most people, when they've had too much to drink, come to about this.

But as it happened — this moment, this scene, this place, this man were not the usual. A drunk's nonsense, and yet it fell right in with the old eunuch's own mood, and in that one instant he took a liking to her.

A fondness he couldn't put into words. Ragged as the girl was in her coarse cloth, thin-haired and sallow, he was fond of her all the same.

All his life he'd been vicious, and after he was made less than a man he'd carried a nameless grudge against the world. He would never admit defeat, and by sheer ambition he had climbed step by step into the heart of the old palace. But what good had it done? Looking back now, it came to nothing more than a lifetime spent bullying and grinding down the sort of people he could afford to bully.

A few hours before, he'd still felt that, ruined body and all, he was far cleaner than the ones who sold out the country and threw open the city gates. What he'd protected was the true Son of Heaven, the rightful bloodline!

And his reward? This was his reward.

He amounted to jack shit!

And now, hearing someone say she wanted to turn the sky over, he felt every pore in his body open up, a relief past all words.

He laughed out loud again.

The wine had gone to Qi Qian'er's head, and she'd forgotten who she was or where. She opened her mouth and cursed: "You old thing! Shut it, would you! You're dying, so die quietly. Stop your laughing — it's an ugly sound!"

The old eunuch stopped laughing at once. He coughed a few times, pressed his chest, and sat a little straighter. He knew she was drunk, but he wasn't going to let her go. He had seen Heaven's punishment, and in the end he had come to fear life and death.

Heh — it was fate, of a kind. Whatever else you said of his life, he'd given the Li family his whole loyal heart, and this was the reward he got. He'd only meant to open the pit and cut off that family's line of retreat — who could have guessed he'd meet such a strange little girl?

At the thought, he pressed his chest and, panting lightly, asked with a laugh: "Not a bad notion, turning the sky over. Cough, cough — this one would be glad of it too. Heh — this one, this one likes it very much..."

Qi Qian'er's face went scornful. Her head was thoroughly muddled by now — so muddled she thought she was dreaming. She climbed down off the threshold, crawled over, tipped her head up and looked the old eunuch over, and even reached out and patted his ghastly pale cheek: "You — what use is your liking it? Not worth a fart!"

Fixing to die anyway, wasn't he?

How many years since anyone had dared slap this old face of his.

The old eunuch was more amazed than ever. Something came to him — who knew what — and he forced his face into a heap of smiling flesh, and with a fawning, grotesque expression said: "Well — right you are, it's — it's not worth a fart!"

"That's what I said!"

Qi Qian'er laughed along with him, long since forgetting that the man in front of her was black-hearted, forgetting that a good many people had died in this yard the night before — all of them at the hands of this dried-up old man.

She swayed as she settled cross-legged, and quite kindly held the wine gourd out to him: "Here, here, here! What's the use of brooding? Have something — take a couple of sips, ease your mind, drink a bit and go easy on the road! Look at you — threw up a whole basin of blood? Why aren't you dead yet? This wine's good, a lot stronger than old Niu's stuff at the mouth of the lane... That Niu family wine, tsk — a peck of it four parts water, and they charge a fortune. A whole family that ought to be struck by lightning!"

And without waiting for him to react, she poured a few mouthfuls down him.

Seeing she'd made him choke, she half propped him up and patted his back, and as she patted she went on comforting him, prim and world-weary as an old woman: "Don't think so much on it. Everybody dies in the end — it's the blink of an eye. Who knows, maybe you'll be like me and come back in a blink..."

The Chief Steward, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, accepted this rare kindness of a life. He knew the girl in front of him was drunk and talking nonsense. Sixty-odd years old, and being called "old brother" by a slip of a girl — really, it was... but never mind, never mind... He would give her a stroke of fortune, then, and let her go be bold enough to swallow the sky!

At that, he reached into his robe, drew out a cloth bundle, and put it in Qi Qian'er's hands, smiling. "Girl, this is for you. It's a bit of good fortune I came by years ago — fine things. This one had meant to keep them to cover his tracks. Now — you take them and go turn the sky over!"

Qi Qian'er took the bundle and opened it, staring muzzily at the two scrolls inside. The top one was called The True Manual of Cultivation and Union; the bottom one — The Thirty-Six Forms of Moon Virtue?

The old eunuch watched her leaf carelessly back and forth through them, then smiled and begged a favor: "Girl, might this one ask something of you?"

Qi Qian'er's hands went still, and she looked up at him, puzzled.

The old eunuch pleaded: "In a while — when this one is gone — down there it's bound to go hard for me. If — if you remember any kindness of mine, would you burn me a few sheets of paper money at the festivals? Would that — would that do? This one's surname is Liao. The given name I'll leave unsaid, so as not to shame my ancestors."

Qi Qian'er laughed softly when he'd done: "What's that to me? Only a few sheets of paper money. But this Moon-Virtue whatever-scripture of yours, I'll not read out for you — I can't read a word anyway! Hic — what did you show me these for? This Moon Virtue — isn't that just the moon rabbit? Since when did a rabbit get a scripture of its own? Right now, this stuff isn't worth two coarse-flour flatcakes!"

Once she'd eaten her fill she still had to marry, still had to give birth to her An'er. What use had she for scriptures?

The old eunuch, taking her for dead drunk, coaxed her all the harder: "Girl, it's no scripture — it's a good thing! Don't — don't you look down on that rabbit. The rabbit's strength is small, but it has the nerve to stake everything and grapple a hawk. Pair it with the breathing-and-cultivation method, and once you've worked it through, then even if you can't storm the heavens, this one guarantees you'll stir a whole river of clear water into mud..."

Qi Qian'er looked thoughtful. She wet a finger with spit and started turning the pages.

A pity — one flip, and she saw a heap of naked monk-figures, some standing, some cross-legged, some upside down...

Pah, pah, pah! The nerve of it — an outrage against all decency.

To think — she, Qi Qian, down on her luck all her life but still an upright, virtuous, decent woman — was this old eunuch out of his mind? Dying, and still setting out to ruin her.

As if she'd touched live coals, Qi Qian'er flung the book to the ground and jumped up to stamp on it a few times.

Seeing her stamp on the book, the old eunuch hurried to sprawl over it and shield it, shouting as he did: "You — what are you thinking, girl? This is a good thing!"

At that Qi Qian'er pointed at him and cursed: "Good — good my arse! Really — I can't even look at it. What filth, fouling my eyes! Pah! It's not worth two flatcakes. You old goods, you really are no good thing! Dying, and still trying to do me dirty?"

The old eunuch might as well have been a chicken talking to a duck — he was well and truly at his wit's end.

For a good while he sat there, watching feebly as Qi Qian'er stamped about, on and on until she couldn't stand any longer and sat back down cross-legged. Only then did he say, helpless: "Aah! Heh — you — all you can see is a bit of food and drink. Well, food and drink it is, then. Outside — on my cart out there — there's a few hundred jin of dry rations, enough to fill your belly..."

Right now, food was the one thing Qi Qian'er answered to.

Hearing there was food, she rolled over to crawl out — only to have the old eunuch snatch her by the ankle.

She kicked back a few times and couldn't shake him off, so she rolled over and looked at the wretched old man: "Look at you — why aren't you dead yet?"

The poor Chief Steward — a man who'd stormed and thundered his whole life — was now so stopped up by this thin-haired chit that his heart was fit to burst.

Yes — he was dying, dying any moment now!

The Chief Steward brought up another mouthful of blood, and, at his wit's end, all but wept as he begged: "Girl — besides the grain, this one's set aside three hundred-odd taels of loose silver. That money's clean, saved up bit by bit by this one's own hand... You — if you eat your fill later and remember any good of me — could you give this silver away for me? Take it to any temple gate you like, relieve whatever poor family you please — it's all — all fine... Count it as buying me a smooth road to my next life. Would you?"

Qi Qian'er didn't want to, but she couldn't leave, and with no choice she sat back down cross-legged in front of the old eunuch: "You old official, aren't you a windbag. Whatever else you've got to say, say it quick and be on your way — I've, uh, I've got things to do!"

With that, she wiped her bloodstained fingers on her trousers.

The old eunuch let out a breath and, smiling, laid a hand on her arm: "Girl, trouble yourself to help this one out to the well outside — would that do?"

"Sure! Why wouldn't it!"

And so, her head full of a drunken fog, Qi Qian'er propped up the old eunuch and went stumbling with him toward the outside...

---

The autumn wind blew, and the two ragged books flipped their pages forlornly in it. The needle-fine rain had just stopped when Qi Qian'er, her head splitting, rolled out from under the altar.

By the time she'd finally cleared her head, she looked at the half a fine-flour flatcake in her hand and let out a wine-sour belch.

Had she sent a man off to die? And a man like that, no less?

And she'd gone down into the cellar and rifled through that fallen dynasty's money?

And made off with a good many of their silver ingots?

Under the altar, several big sacks of dry flatcakes, knots of pickled vegetable and strips of dried meat, and a small, loosely-tied bundle of gold ingots lay heaped any old how...

Qi Qian'er sat blankly a while, and great swaths of memory — her past life's and this one's alike — came flooding back over her, blotting out sky and earth.

Astonished, horrified, terrified — all at once Qi Qian'er's mind churned to paste, and with tears streaming she clutched her head and began to scream.

Screaming, she rolled on the ground.

The Plague God, astride his strange beast with its knocked-crooked head, watched on, expressionless...

She rolled and rolled until there was no point to it anymore, then sat up and boxed her own ears, left and right, hating herself for being bold enough to swallow the sky and careless of her own life.

At last she remembered. The night before, when she'd helped the old eunuch outside, he'd told her that what lay below was the war-chest the Li family's Sixth Prince had laid by to raise troops one day. She was to touch none of it — only the unmarked gold and silver in the fourth chest was hers to handle.

And touch it she had — gone down and hauled up a whole big sackful.

The old eunuch had told her it was best to leave the pit's mouth open: whoever found the place later, in the scramble to grab it, would never notice any trace of her...

And afterward the old eunuch had thrown himself down the well. He truly hadn't wanted to live.

But why hadn't he wanted to live?

Qi Qian'er got up and stumbled to the well's edge, only to find that after a night of burning it had long since caved in, bone crumbled and flesh rotted, past all recognition.

Looking again, she saw the temple's courtyard gate standing wide open, and out beyond it a big dark-grey donkey, still waiting obediently, hitched to a cart with a grey cloth awning.

That was right — the day before there'd been a whole big train of carts here, and following the old eunuch's instructions she'd untied the ropes and set all the carts and horses loose.

This one cart she'd left tied only because it carried the dry rations, and the donkey, seeing her, started up a hee-hawing bray.

Only then did Qi Qian'er remember: she still hadn't taken the loose silver the old eunuch had told her of...

Qi Qian'er stood there dazed, unable to believe her fate had swung round so sharp a bend.

What on earth had she done yesterday — how had she gotten so bold? She truly hadn't feared death!

At the thought, Qi Qian'er cuffed herself across the face again — and once she'd done it, she felt a little pleased with herself.

To think — who'd have guessed? The self who last life took one look at that bloody arm and turned and fled — this life she hadn't fled, and had come into a chance like this... But was it — was it a good thing, or not?

Mm, it had to be good... At the least, she had a few hundred jin of dry rations now.

At that, Qi Qian'er walked to the tree, untied the donkey-cart's rope, and led the donkey in through the temple gate...

Once through the gate and the donkey tied, Qi Qian'er went back into the main hall — and no sooner was she inside than she stepped square on the Cultivation manual.

Qi Qian'er bent and picked it up, flipped through it twice, couldn't bear to look, and closed it again twice over...

She could read now, and on the book's first page she saw written:

First open the qi and train the membranes; the mastering of qi and the linking of the acupoints is the root. Move the qi at the hours of zi and wu, join it upward to the kidneys, draw it into the dantian, and let one thought stand in for ten thousand...

Mm... the words she could read now, right enough — but what in the world was this?

Qi Qian'er truly couldn't make sense of it, so she just stuffed the two books into her robe and made for the sacks of grain under the altar.

In this world, every cut and every polish has its cause and its consequence. Pitiful, that these two books — which in the fallen dynasty had stirred storms across the ten directions, fought over by no end of people — should now fall into the hands of an inner-court woman. More galling still, to Qi Qian'er's mind these two things truly mattered less than two jin of coarse-flour flatcakes...

---

Qingfeng had been under siege half a month when Heaven sent down its punishment. That night the world had spun and the earth had shaken, smashing the once-whole city of Qingfeng full of deep pits.

At that time, fifteen li outside the city, in the cellar of a derelict courtyard at Huo Manor, the dozen-odd souls left of Master Huo's household, old and young, were clinging to life and waiting...

None of them knew what they were waiting for. They just waited.

The night before, the household's mistress had sent the three concubine-born daughters out to look for grain, and to this moment not one of the three girls had come back. In their hearts they all knew — they surely weren't coming back... Out there now, heaven left no road and earth left no road, and people had long since been left no way to live.

The cellar was very quiet. No one cried, no one made a fuss. Only the half-mad eldest young mistress, her two shriveled dugs bared, cradled a child three or four days dead and already going rank, humming a little song to it now and then: "Mama's baby, eat now, take a few bites, grow big and strong, and when you're grown you'll study hard with your papa and we'll pass first in the examinations..."

A few days back, the mistress who ran the house would still have had the strength to land a few slaps on such mad babbling. But by now, nothing in her belly, she'd long since had no strength to throw her weight around.

She felt that with her grandson dead, her own death wasn't far off.

Madam Wang was half-mad with hunger, and more than once the thought crossed her mind: should she crawl over presently and throttle her eldest daughter-in-law? She was no use anymore anyway. Or else... or else eat her.

But she hadn't the nerve, so she only turned the evil thought over and over in her head.

How long passed she didn't know, but someone crawled up beside her and softly called "Mother" in her ear. Madam Wang knew it was her eldest son, Huo Yunzhang.

Huo Yunzhang crawled to his mother's ear, worked up his courage, and murmured: "Mother... Duan-niang... she's gone mad!"

Her son had barely gotten the first of it out when mother and son understood each other's hearts, and the evil thought within Madam Wang found its backing. She seized her son's hand, about to say something — when the broken boards over the cellar's mouth were thrown open from above...

A dim daylight spilled into the cellar, lighting every face plain and clear.

The seventh girl, who'd been lost a whole day and night, leaned half her body in, her face all tears, and cried: "Madam! Madam! Come out quick — Qing— Qingfeng's fallen, and outside the city they're handing out gruel!"