by Tangstory
“This spring might not be the best with the hot weather. You can come in the evening next time.”
Shen Liangsheng did not reply, and Ch’in Ching continued by himself. “You should not actually fall asleep. The water is not deep, but karma might just let you drown.”
“…”
“I will leave these here. Surely, you know how to wash your hair?”
“…”
“Shen-hufa, oh Shen-hufa, I am Ch’in-taifu, not Ch’in-laoma[6]….” Ch’in Ching heaved a defeated sigh. “So this is what it means to command with silence.”
In reality, Shen Liangsheng was not trying to oppress the doctor but was concentrating on his mantra and ch’i.
According to the Heart Sūtra,[7] the five skandhas are empty. In the void there are no forms and no feelings, conceptions, impulses and no consciousness; there is no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body or mind; there is no colour, sound, smell, taste, touch or idea.
But the mantra dictated the exact opposite. It sought to create form out of the void, generating an endless flow of ch’i while heightening the senses to the surroundings.
He felt his hairpin gently being removed and his strands falling loose.
Ch’in Ching removed Shen Liangsheng’s hairpin, letting loose the strands. Dipping a wooden scoop into the hot water, he poured it over the man’s head.
The dark strands snaked down like swimming ink.
– felt fingers combing through his hair and untangling each and every knot.
Shen Liangsheng had bled so much that day that the blood had soaked his hair and formed a sticky clot. Melting now in the warm water, it flowed in faint rouge tendrils into the pool.
Ch’in Ching’s eyes chased after the tendrils that quickly dissolved into a sheer veil over the soft ripples. Beneath the veil was the naked body of one who practised martial arts year-round, and on the body were several gashes whose scabs were so gnarled they appeared alive – a coiled crimson python whose head rested on the man’s chest right above a nipple. Hissing, its forked tongue darted back and forth sliding over the nub.
– felt those hands brushing his hair and rubbing his scalp and nape, firmly at times and nimbly at others, the pattern of which was…unpredictable.
The sunlight beamed down through the water as though it were nonexistent. As Ch’in Ching’s gaze drifted lower, it came upon an unobstructed view of the manhood lying dormant between casually splayed legs. Any evocative fantasies he might have entertained were deterred by the overly artless image.
Ch’in Ching retracted his eyes and decided to stare only at Shen Liangsheng’s face while he focused on the work in his hands.
Flowing brows and eyes. Straight nose and thin lips. Cold like the tundra after a snow. Sharp like the icicles hanging off pines. It was not a fiendish complexion, but the malice was strong.
Also… Ch’in Ching averted his gaze, not even daring to look at the man’s face now. He wondered how it was possible for a naked man to still look so chaste and abstinent.
And it must be noted that the more forbidden…the more delicious the fruit.
– felt the heat from the water seep into his body filling him with a subdued, feather-light numbness. The medicinal smell was thickening, but there were another distinct strain in the air. The herbal scent coming from a certain someone approached like a faint shadow treading through the fog, edging closer and closer.
Casting his gaze down towards his own nose and heart, Ch’in Ching was determined not to let it wander any further.
But no matter where his eyes were pointed, the slippery strands of hair between his fingers were like an inescapable net in which a fish was writhing and struggling…. Letting go in a panic, Ch’in Ching stumbled back. His awakening erection rubbed against his undergarment like a fish in a net – in pain whether the net was tight or not.
But because death was inevitable, staying alive in the water for a moment longer only meant more suffering.
– and felt the hands suddenly leaving as the silhouette that had almost revealed itself instead slipped back into the fog, never to be seen.
“A change of clothes is on the ledge. You can come up yourself when you’ve completed the session.”
Clearing his throat, Ch’in Ching turned and left Shen Liangsheng alone in the pool. After running his ch’i through his body once, he slowly opened his eyes.
Hair, huh… A rare, trivial thought ran through his mind as he took a strand between his fingers.
Hair was essentially useless. No pain came from cutting it; it would recover its length if left to grow. But sometimes it was versatile, as the thread used in hsüan-ssu[8] diagnosis.
Out of the many distractions of the mind, only the flames of lust could not be concealed, and if one attempted to, it would only burn more fiercely.
* * * * *
[1] A courtesy name was originally used to replace a man’s given name after the age of 20, after which time only the person himself and his elders are allowed to use his given name. It was said that one’s given name is used for differentiation while the courtesy name should show the man’s qualities.
[2] 恒(heng), ‘eternital’ or ‘eternity’; 肅(su), ‘solemn’ or ‘respectful’.
[3] ‘Liang’ means cool and ‘sheng’ means to be born. 生不逢時 or ‘born at the wrong time’ and is a way of saying that the person was born with bad luck and misfortune.
[4] Loosely termed, a parallel world that exists outside of mainstream society and its government
[5] A suffix that means doctor.
[6] Mother, or in this situation, a caretaker.
[7] Translation from http://www.usashaolintemple.org/chanbuddhism-heartsutratranslation/ is referenced.
[8] Literally ‘suspended thread,’ it refers to a method of pulse diagnosis where a thread is tied around the patient’s wrist and the doctor reads the pulse through vibrations detected via the thread. This was used so that imperial doctors would not physically touch or sometimes even see his female patient of higher status.
Chapter III
Time seemed not to touch the mountains, and a month passed in the blink of an eye. With his injuries largely healed, Shen Liangsheng set off on his journey back to the sect. Before leaving, he removed his hufa pass from his belt. The pass was made of a yin piece and a yang piece, and he gave Ch’in Ching the yin piece as the token for their future negotiation.
The doctor acted rather formally this time because of the forbidden notions that he harboured. He hid all the smiles and laughs, all the quips and remarks, and bid the man farewell. “While I will not see you out, Shen-hufa, I wish you a safe journey ahead.”
With Shen Liangsheng gone, Ch’in Ching was alone again in his little hut in the mountains, but phantoms of the man seemed to linger all around.
When he ate alone at the table, he would recall that he could not help but pay special attention to the man’s hands whenever they shared a meal.
Shen Liangsheng had skin paler than usual. His fingers were long and slender without protruding knuckles. The calluses that should belong to a swordsman were not discernible, but with one look anybody would be able to tell that the hands belonged to a martial arts practitioner, one who had the power to decapitate men with his bare hands. A few times he became so engrossed that his gaze followed hand, chopsticks and food up to the man’s lips. He saw the lips part and the food being carefully chewed and swallowed, but he was under the impression that the man did not give a second thought as to whether it was fish and meat entering his mouth or tofu and greens and that the man could not distinguish between them, either.
Perhaps a meal was nothing more than ingesting food to the man.
“Yes?” One time Ch’in Ching’s gaze lingered a moment too long, provoking Shen Liangsheng to question. The man’s voice carried no discontent, but it was more than enough to bring Ch’in Ching back to reality.
“Nothing. It shames me as a host that the food is so monotonous.” Ch’in Ching wore a polite smile
but was secretly wondering what his mouth would taste like.
“It is of no concern.”
It likely had no taste at all, Ch’in Ching thought while smiling. The man probably could not taste all the flavours of life.
Sometimes when Ch’in Ching sat by the window with a book and a pot of fine tea, he would still see the man practising his sword in the courtyard.
Generally speaking, Ch’in Ching should give the man privacy, for not every swordsman was willing to let outsiders observe his techniques. Shen Liangsheng, however, did not seem to mind the doctor’s observance of his every stance, every strike. At times relaxed, at other times swift, the moves did not carry the man’s core ch’i or the intent to kill, but the essence of the sword was evident.
More than two centuries had passed since the Hsing[1] Sect shook the chianghu with apocalyptic carnage, and the event had nearly become a legend. Two hundred years later, the Hsing Sect had not waged another war, but the mere mention of its name struck fear into the heart of every person in the chianghu. The horror of the incident was apparent.
Shen Liangsheng likely was practising merely to pass the time and thus did not display the unearthly ability to force a dozen sects into extinction that a hufa of the demonic sect was fabled to have. All that could be perceived was his dancing sword and flowing charm.
Normally after watching for a while, Ch’in Ching would look back down at his book, lamenting. Nature’s creations were beautiful and mysterious, but no matter how awe-inspiring this man was, he was nothing more than a demonic weapon of the Hsing Sect. Rumour had it that the hufa of the Hsing Sect all reached a state of selflessness, abandoning all sense of self and mortal greed, and obeyed only the sect leader’s commands – if they were told to kill a thousand men, they would not rest until all one thousand souls had left their fleshly vessels. Ch’in Ching now judged the rumour to be true.
The yin pass that Shen Liangsheng left behind was initially also used by Ch’in Ching as a belt accessory. Its material was most peculiar. Neither stone nor metal, it was as cold as ice, and Ch’in Ching could feel its temperature even through two layers of clothing.
Late on one hot summer night, Ch’in Ching stuck the pass under his bamboo pillow. Rolling onto his side with one cheek against the pillow, he fell asleep quite easily with the indistinct coolness exuded by the pass.
Perhaps he should not have brought the man’s intimate possession[2] to bed. That night, Ch’in Ching had a sensual dream.
When he woke in the middle of the night, his undergarments were wet with sweat and clung to his skin. The member between his legs was still hard and his body burning.
Unable to hold back, he reached underneath the pillow for the pass, its icy touch making the heat within him seem even more unbearable.
Closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the pass, Ch’in Ching slowly brought it to his collarbone as a shiver ran through him. In the dark room, an odd smile found its way to his face.
His fingers pushed the pass down over his shirt to a spot on the chest slightly to the right. Under the chilliness, his right nipple began to perk up without having been stimulated.
On the front face of the pass was a yenwei, the creature depicted in the Shan-hai Ching[3] as having the body of a snake and the head of a human. He who lays eyes upon the creature shall dominate the realm. Ch’in Ching wondered delightedly if Shen-hufa would still be able to keep that emotionless, impassive expression of his after finding out he was using his hufa pass to do this.
The pass was rectangular, and its edges were polished to a blade-like point. A little absentmindedly, Ch’in Ching began toying with the nipple through his cotton undershirt using a corner of the pass. A slightly stronger move of the wrist brought a light prick like that of a knife, but because of the sensitivity of the location, he gladly welcomed the pain.
His groin had already been frustratingly swollen, and now with the pleasure from the nipple being played with, the sprightly member jerked in Ch’in Ching’s pants as though it were trying to push its way out of its constraints. The head poked at the thin cotton, wetting it with the juices leaking out of the hole. The fluid seeped into the cloth and felt slightly damp on Ch’in Ching’s skin.
His fingers slid the pass down to his crotch, pressing the face with the carving against it. He applied more force to his fingertips and pushed the designs of the pass against the sac hanging below his erection, bringing on an indescribable, sinful sensation.
He then slid the pass up over the sac slowly rubbing it on his member on its way up. Over his underpants, the sensation felt vague and flirtatious and only made him more anxious. More and more juices spewed from his member, completely wetting the patch of cloth near the head. Wiggling around, Ch’in Ching eased his underpants down, and the head of his member leapt out from under the cloth to stick closely to his abdomen.
A sudden gust of wind blew across the cloudy night sky, letting a ray of moonlight into the dark room to illuminate more of the scene on the bed. Ch’in Ching kept rubbing the carvings on the pass against his member as if he had fallen in love with this vague and flirtatious sensation. The yin pass was eerily cold and his member fiery hot. The coolness slipped through the cotton and wrapped itself around the burning rod just as the lily-white, strong, slender fingers of the man might. Closing his eyes, Ch’in Ching imagined the pair of cold, heartless hands that had committed the most heinous, most sinful crimes taking a firm hold on his member and stroking it. A soft moan escaped his lips.
The sound was rather audible in the quietude of night. Opening his eyes, Ch’in Ching pushed his upper body up with his left hand and saw under the hazy moonlight his partly undressed bottom and his hips gyrating by themselves along with his right hand’s movement. The messy, slick head of his member was peeping from under his pants and had left a small pool of stickiness on his stomach erotically reflecting the moon’s radiance.
To be this aroused… Ch’in Ching chuckled. Although he mockingly called himself a pervert, it was naught but a name. Because he was born with an unusual heart, he harboured little lust, and other than his gambling habits, he led a rather abstinent lifestyle.
But Shen Liangsheng was different. With a light smile about his lips, Ch’in Ching acknowledged that, to him, the man was different from the moment he knew his identity.
But this “different” was different from the “different” he had initially expected.
What a funny little tongue-twister.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, his hands did not cease to move. That he had become this aroused because of the man induced in him a nearly masochistic pleasure.
He watched himself masturbate with the pass, rub his member with the man’s intimate possession, and become so uninhibited, all without even having direct contact, his skin shielded from the item by his pants.
He watched his penis envalley with so much blood that the swollen head almost glowed red, and an endless flow of clear but impure fluids dripped from the hole. He made a sudden change in motion and brought a corner of the pass to the little hole on the head. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure rushed to his head, and his member trembled a few times before reaching release.
Ch’in Ching lay back down, panting for a while. He held the pass up to study it under the moonlight.
A dribble of cum[4] had fallen just now on the pass, and the milky liquid was sliding down the designs, stopping between the two heads atop the thick serpentine body of the yenwei.
Word by word, Ch’in Ching recited the story in the Shan-hai Ching:
The yenwei has the head of man, body of serpent, and wears purple dress and a red crown, and he who sees it shall dominate the realm…
…huh.
* * * * *
[1] Literally ‘punishment’ or ‘penalty.’
[2] The original term refers to something that is kept close to one’s body at all times, such as a necklace, pendant or charm. This is significant because these items are sometimes given
away or exchanged as a token of promise (e.g. betrothal) and often handed down from one generation to the next as heirloom.
[3] Also known as Classic of Mountains and Seas, a compilation of texts dated earliest back to 4th century BC about the mythical geography of the land.
[4] The author repeatedly mentions that the pass is yin, and here she specifically uses the term “yang essence” to refer to male ejaculate.
Chapter IV
The temperature had yet to drop as lich’iu[1] passed, and it came time again for Ch’in Ching’s quarterly suffering.
His inborn heart condition did not prevent him from functioning normally, merely limiting him to weaker forms of martial arts and a minimal level of neikung. However, four times each year, at the turn of the seasons, it was as though two masters were battling to their deaths within Ch’in Ching’s heart, paying no mind to whether Ch’in-taifu’s mortal organ could withstand such a duel.
As the saying goes, a healer cannot heal himself. Ch’in Ching’s shifu[2] had some expertise in medicine, and Ch’in Ching excelled even further in the field. But neither of them could do anything about this strange disease. Not only were painkilling herbs ineffective, the pain would tear Ch’in Ching from his slumber even when his sleeping points[3] were sealed with silver needles.
Ch’in Ching had been following his shifu, visiting all the mysterious and unknown corners of the land, until four years ago when they came upon a certain medicinal spring hidden in the mountains. During those changes of season when his heart began to ache, he would enter the spring and the pain would become more bearable.
Ch’in Ching still recalled the conversation with his shifu four years ago as he lay soaking in the pool, oblivious to night and day.
“If you ask me, you should not have found this delightful treasure for me. Before, I had to suffer four times a year, so living meant nothing good to me. A quicker death meant a quicker reincarnation. But now that you’ve found such a place, I might just start to cherish my life and fear death.”