Chapter 127: The Great Temple (Part Two)

Li Donghai was a friend of my father’s. When I was a child, he often called me his godson, but I never acknowledged him as my godfather because he smelled of stench all year round—he was a butcher.

His partner in butchery was a man named Qiao, the fourth in his family, whom we addressed as Uncle Four. Both men had fiery tempers; in modern parlance, they were quite rough around the edges, possessing a strong "jianghu" spirit. As friends of my father during tougher times, they would frequently bring us pig offal to help us improve our meals. They were the most suitable candidates for the task at hand.

Butchers, who spend their days dealing with slaughter, are, aside from executioners, the people most filled with baleful energy. Such individuals are rarely bothered by malevolent spirits, yet they seldom live long lives; the heavy toll of killing eventually invites divine retribution or shortens one’s lifespan.

The two were very straightforward. They flatly refused the red envelopes I offered, seeing the job as nothing more than a trivial matter. They prepared carrying poles, thick hemp ropes, and a flatbed cart, and a few of us headed up the mountain. No one had touched the coffin yet. Strangely, while the coffin had been heavy as lead when buried in the earth, after being left to air on the ground for two days, it had become significantly lighter. Two men, one in front and one behind, hoisted it down with little effort, covered it with a plastic tarp, and set off.

The gate to the Great Temple was locked, but we had the key. The building belonged to the public, and the village had fitted it with a new padlock. Upon opening the gate, we found the courtyard overgrown with weeds as tall as a man, with broken bricks and crumbling walls scattered everywhere. I glanced inside and saw several coffins stored in the western building, covered with straw. The wood of those coffins had already split; they were likely relics left behind from long ago.

We stored this particular coffin in the eastern side room. Before leaving, Cha Wenbin placed a talisman on it. I didn’t know what kind it was, but I assumed it was to suppress the corpse.

After locking the door and thanking Uncle Donghai and Uncle Four, Cha Wenbin wanted to visit He Jinfeng. It was already noon by the time we reached her house.

The woman kept her home quite tidy. The courtyard gate was half-ajar. Upon entering, I saw pots and plants on both sides of the yard. We bumped into an old person coming out, who looked startled and asked, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Cha Wenbin replied, "I’ve come to see Aunt Jinfeng. Who might you be?"

The old person looked displeased, waving a towel and saying, "Go away, go away. She’s not home."

How could she not be home? Cha Wenbin smiled conciliatorily, "I’m her nephew, from Hong Village. I was with my aunt just yesterday. I heard she wasn't feeling well, so where has she gone?"

"I said she's not here, so she's not here! Both of you, get out!" The old person made a move to pick up a broom from the corner to chase us away. I hurriedly pulled Cha Wenbin back, and just as we retreated outside, the old person slammed the door shut with a loud crash.

"What a strange person," I muttered. The customs of our generation were never this aggressive; whoever came to your home was a guest, and even if you didn't host them, you wouldn't be this hostile.

Cha Wenbin squatted by the corner of the wall and asked me, "Didn't you notice a scent on that person?"

"What scent?"

"A scent of incense. I suspect He Jinfeng is in trouble. That person must be her relative. I have to go in."

"Thump, thump." I knocked on the door again. After a moment, someone shouted from inside, "Who is it? We’re busy, come back another day."

"Cha Wenbin, disciple of Ma Sufeng from Hong Village!" This time he didn't hold back; his voice was loud and clear, as if he were afraid the person wouldn't hear him. Sure enough, the door actually opened. It was the same old person, but this time, they held something extra: a basin of cold water!

"Splash!" The cold water came crashing down over his head. I was behind him and was fine, but Cha Wenbin was miserable. The March weather wasn't exactly freezing, but it certainly wasn't hot. The old man drenched him thoroughly, spat harshly, and turned to close the door again. I lunged forward, blocking the door with my body, and said, "You are being unreasonable! How can you treat a guest this way? If it weren't for your age..."

"What? You’re going to beat me to death because I'm old? Go ahead and hit me, you little brat!" The old man cursed while picking up a wooden club as thick as a bowl from the yard. I wasn't one to be pushed around either; after being treated like this for no reason, how could I not fight back?

After all, youth prevailed. I grabbed the club and pushed hard, pinning the old man against the wall. Even then, he was no match for me, though he continued to spew the vilest curses imaginable, as if I had stolen his family’s gold and silver and burned down his house. How much hatred could there be?

"Get out!" After the old man spat out those words through gritted teeth, Cha Wenbin had already entered the house. Moments later, he rushed out and said to me, "Hurry, take her to the hospital. She’s fading."

He was carrying a woman in his arms—it was He Jinfeng. She was frowning, completely unconscious. I let go of the old man and said, "If you stop us again, it’ll be a matter of life and death!"

"Isn't it all because of you people!" The old man threw the club to the ground and began to cry. "It wasn't enough that Ma Sufeng harmed us before, now his disciple has to come and harm us again! Does the He family owe you anything?"

It turned out this old man was He Jinfeng’s father. He Jinfeng had been in poor shape since returning from Maocao Bay, suffering from a high fever and delirium. Her father, a superstitious man who understood nothing, had been praying to gods and spirits at home and had even invited several older women from neighboring villages to perform shamanistic dances. When Cha Wenbin burst in, those women were force-feeding He Jinfeng some kind of black liquid.

Touching her, she felt so hot she could barely be held. Cha Wenbin was a Taoist, but he knew when to do what. If someone is burning up like that and you don't take them to the hospital, you’re just asking for death!

We ignored everything else, rushed out, found a vehicle, and took He Jinfeng to the county hospital. The doctor scolded us upon arrival, saying that if we had been any later, even if she survived, she would have been left mentally disabled.

A Taoist is not the same as someone who ignores medical care. Relying solely on talismans and incantations to cure illness is superstition; Taoists of the past were well-versed in medicine, and if they couldn't cure an ailment, they would invite a physician. Illness and spiritual possession are two different things; there is no conflict between medical science and Taoist arts. Many people fall into this misunderstanding.

People can develop high fevers under extreme exhaustion. The doctor said He Jinfeng’s energy had been drained to such an extent that it took her three days and three nights to wake up. That was the price of communicating with the divine!

Therefore, those who feign madness and recover instantly are all frauds. Communicating with the divine requires the consumption of vast amounts of vital energy. I don't know what kind of communication it is, but I think of it like this: the divine is a PhD, and an ordinary person is an elementary school student. If the PhD discusses a higher mathematics problem with the student—simple for the PhD but needing the student to solve it at the same time and provide the same answer—how fast would that student’s brain need to operate?

Those days were busy. Gao Cheng had been buried, and hearts were filled with panic. Rumors spread that he had died an "unclean" death. Every night, families went to sleep early; children were tucked away as soon as they finished their meals. Cha Wenbin and I ran between the hospital and home. He Jinfeng needed care. She had no children or husband, and though she was awake, she couldn't speak; she was like a simpleton. Cha Wenbin was anxious, having tried every method, but the hospital wouldn't let her be discharged, saying they couldn't be responsible if we took her back now.

It was around the fourth day. I remember that night; I was tossing and turning, unable to sleep, feeling incredibly restless. I shared a room with Cha Wenbin, and he was the same. The air was stifling enough to drive one mad. I got out of bed around two in the morning, wanting to catch some air at the door.

My house was on high ground; across the yard was a steep embankment, and below that was the road. There were no streetlights back then. There was a table and chairs in the courtyard, so I brought some wine and food to drink and ease my restlessness. After a few sips, I suddenly glimpsed lights on the road, like lanterns children play with, appearing one after another.

The night was very dark, making the lights particularly striking. I hurried to call Cha Wenbin, but by the time he came out, everything had returned to silence.

"Strange. Did I see a ghost again?" My eyes hadn't seen such things for a long time, and I had been secretly relieved. Why was it flaring up again? At this hour, it certainly wasn't a group of people out for a stroll.

"Which direction did they go?" Cha Wenbin asked as he put on his clothes.

"They must have gone further in." I slapped my thigh. "Oh no, this is going to be trouble!"

There were only seven or eight households further in from my house. What worried me more was that the Great Temple was in that direction. We had put a sinister coffin in there just a few days ago. Could it be...

At that thought, my scalp tingled. I wondered if something was going to happen.

"What day is it today?" Cha Wenbin asked.

"It’s the sixteenth of the second lunar month. Wait, that’s not right. Why is there no moon tonight?" I looked up at the sky; it was pitch black. By all accounts, the moonlight should have been spilling over the ground; it wasn't even raining.

"Today is also the seventh day since Gao Cheng’s death! Listen, let’s split up. You go to the Great Temple to see if there’s any movement, and I’ll go to the Gao family home."

"What? I have to go to the Great Temple? You might as well kill me!" I didn't even like that place during the day, let alone at night. Cha Wenbin, aren't you setting me up?

"Then I’ll go to the Great Temple, and you go to the Gao house. How about that?"

I negotiated, "This... can't we go together?"

"I’m afraid it will be too late. I have a premonition that something is bound to happen tonight; I just don't know where."

I thought to myself that if I was being set up, so be it; at worst, I’d just run. "Fine, I’ll go to the Great Temple. We’ll meet up when we’re done."