by Tangstory
The flame of the candle on the bedside table jumped, its flickering light illuminating the doctor’s face. A long, shallow scar trailed down from the corner of one eye, as though the man had heard the hufa’s quiet words and so began to shed tears of heartbreak.
Shen Liangsheng reached out as though to caress his face but stopped an inch away, tracing with a finger in midair the false tear streak while continuing softly,
“What are you crying for… I was just teasing you.”
Five days passed in the blink of an eye, and Ch’in Ching awoke according to schedule. The first thing he saw was Shen Liangsheng standing beside him, and he smiled at him without much thought.
Only after the fact did he remember the circumstance he was in, and he smiled again shaking his head.
Miao Jan’s potion had placed him in a state of feigned death; thus he felt neither hunger nor thirst despite having consumed nothing for five days. Ch’in Ching left the bed, straightened his clothing and looked up at Shen Liangsheng. Perhaps he should have said something, but he knew not what to say, and so he smiled a third time.
“Time is of the essence, Ch’in Ching. This way please.”
Shen Liangsheng looked at him coolly, as if he had reassembled his thoughts in the last five days and transformed himself back into the man of their first encounter: unsmiling with an aura of death, cold-blooded and perfectly rational.
It produced in Ch’in Ching the feeling that their time together was nothing more than a five-day dream.
This is who the man was originally, so this is what I got. Ch’in Ching ridiculed himself silently as he followed Shen Liangsheng out of his prison. But it was truly stupid and pathetic of me to think he had also fallen in love.
The layout of the Hsing Sect was complex and criss-crossed with traps. Tallow torches lit the dim galleries every ten steps. Each sect member standing guard knelt on one knee and bowed when Shen Liangsheng walked by. Ch’in Ching followed behind enjoying the false glory of the situation, as he noticed to his surprise their rising altitude. He had assumed the fiend’s body would be hidden deep within an earthen labyrinth, but apparently that was not the case.
After another pot of tea’s time, they entered a spacious, empty hall. Ch’in Ching estimated the height to be greater than one hundred feet, for the ceiling was too dark and far to spot.
Shen Liangsheng stopped and turned to Ch’in Ching. The doctor thought the man had words for him to pay attention to, but the man stepped towards him and pulled him up into a bridal carry.
It was not the first time Ch’in Ching had been treated in this way, but it was indeed the first time he felt averse to it. He struggled a bit perhaps to avoid the stony air about the man.
“Don’t move,” the man ordered in a low voice as he tightened his grip, still standing in the same spot.
So Ch’in Ching could only allow himself to be held, but then came an utterance that was completely unrelated to their present situation:
“You always carry the scent of herbs. I shall remember it.”
As Ch’in Ching was getting ready to reply, his head spun and his vision blurred, pushing his words back down. Shen Liangsheng shot into the air thirty feet, bending slightly to tap his toes on the stone wall, which sent him up another thirty feet. He repeated this until they reached solid ground again, and he let Ch’in Ching down.
They were standing on a platform protruding from the wall, and before them was a massive black form, perhaps an iron gate.
Ch’in Ching had barely cracked his lips when the gates opened. From within came a blinding efflux of candlelight, and he shut his eyes against it.
In less time than it took to blink, he felt his hand being held. Shen Liangsheng walked with him past the gate and did not let go until they had entered the chamber.
“I never knew you could escort a prisoner like that. What a fascinating method.” The four t’angchu and two elders were all present. Miao Jan was the type to joke in any situation, so it was natural that she made fun of Shen Liangsheng.
“Miao-t’angchu,” someone responded from a corner. “I’m starting to think your tongue may a treasure of this sect. When we run out of money, the two of us should find a teahouse and perform some crosstalk. I bet we would make buckets of gold.”
Ch’in Ching turned to the sound, and beside him Shen Liangsheng reported in a deep voice, “Deputy, I have brought the man.”
Ch’in Ching took a good look at this man who was rumoured to be more formidable than the hufa. He was a slightly chubby, middle-aged man with kind eyes. Far from the leader of a demonic sect, he appeared more like a merchant, particularly one who chose the route of amity.
“Young lad, this must be terrible for you.” His tone was as amiable as his appearance. He approached Ch’in Ching and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Seeing as you didn’t get a good result this life, it’s better that you walk the path of the Yellow Spring quickly and be reborn into a better life.”
“…” Ch’in Ching was at a loss for words. He finally understood where the hufa acquired his training in verbal sparring. Fortunately for them, he had little honour or decency to speak of. Any other person would certainly have been shamed to death before he could become the blood trigger.
“Deputy, it is almost time. Shall we light the incense?”
Elder Fang and Elder Wu were conscious of the hour, and when the deputy leader nodded, they took out from a box a stick of incense thick enough to just grab with one hand and planted it in the censer. After lighting it, they respectfully placed the censer atop a meta coffin sitting in the centre of the chamber.
Ch’in Ching had spotted the coffin the instant he entered and recognized it as the place where the fiend was resting his body.
And this stone chamber must have been the highest point in the entirety of the Hsing Sect.
It turned out that the fiend was not hiding underground even when he was in a state of feigned death. He still wanted to look down at this beautiful world from his spot high above, quietly awaiting the day of rebirth when he would assert total dominance over it.
The incense having been lit, the deputy sat cross-legged by the coffin, closed his eyes and began channelling his ch’i. The chamber fell silent. All eyes were glued to the coffin and the man. Even Ch’in Ching was curious as to how this soul trigger worked.
While he was observing, eyes squinted, Shen Liangsheng, who had been standing beside him with his hands clasped behind his back, took half a step forward and slightly to the left, partially blocking the doctor. His left hand reached backwards as well and held onto the doctor’s right hand.
Oh, give me a break. Does he not know what time it is? How does he still have the leisure to do this? Ch’in Ching tried to jerk his hand away but to no avail, so he let it be. If you say he is heartless, how would you explain this stunt? But if you say he does have a heart, how do you expect me to believe you?
Ch’in Ching naturally could not see his expression. He could only feel the hand around his hand, but even so, the air about the man was dead still. The hands were physically connected, and there was nothing else to it.
The incense was rather thick but burned very quickly. When it came to its end, the meditating man gave a sudden shudder as a strand of red brume rose from the crown of his head. As though guided by the incense smoke, the brume floated upward and circled around a few times before burrowing into the coffin. Instantly, a dazzling red light and a rumbling of thunder exploded from within as if something were trying to break out, but in the end, it gradually resided due to the lack of the last bit of energy.
“…done,” the deputy managed to make one sound before collapsing to the floor. Although the ceremony did not end his life, he had been depleted of his entire cultivation and would have to resort to living as a common man for the rest of his time.
“I shall take the deputy to his room. I leave the blood trigger to you,” Elder Fang said to Elder Wu as he hefted the unconscious man onto his back and flitted out
of the chamber. Elder Wu first put away the censer and then produced another smaller box from his sleeve and approached Ch’in Ching.
“Allow me,” Shen Liangsheng requested flatly. He took one step forward and accepted the box. Still holding Ch’in Ching’s hand, he led him to the coffin.
Above the coffin were two chains. The lower one was approximately twenty feet above from the coffin while the other was a man’s length higher. Two pairs of manacles hung from each chain, the entire apparatus designed to ensure the proper positioning of the vessel over the coffin.
Without any outside help, Shen Liangsheng firmly delivered Ch’in Ching onto the bottom chain so quickly their figures were a blur. His hands were calm and steady as they first cuffed the doctor’s wrists and then his ankles. With that, Ch’in Ching was totally secured with no chance of escape on his own.
“Shen-hufa,” Miao Jan managed to verbalize after realizing to her dismay Shen Liangsheng’s intentions. “I also head the infirmary of this sect. Perhaps I should be responsible for this.”
Shen Liangsheng only spat out two cold syllables, “No need.” Still standing on the chain, he opened the box and took out a metal tube much thinner than a pinky finger.
Evidently a bloodletting tool, either end of the tube had a diagonal cut and an extremely sharp finish.
Amidst a solemn silence, Shen Liangsheng gazed steadily into Ch’in Ching’s eyes and applied force to his hand, stabbing one end into the doctor’s chest, inch by inch, into his atrium.
From start to end, the hand gripping the tube did not shake even the slightest. No hesitancy. No wavering.
Ch’in Ching’s heart was structured differently, and he would not die even with such an object inside, but the pain was excruciating.
Then when the pain overwhelmed him, his vision blackened and he lost consciousness.
The last thing he saw was the steady of gaze of Shen Liangsheng’s eye.
Within them was no emotion, only pure indifference and dead silence.
When Ch’in Ching awoke, the stone chamber was empty and devoid of the previous illumination. Only two candles lit the space, rendering it as dim and eerie as the underworld itself.
The pain in his chest seemed to have ebbed, allowing Ch’in Ching to gather strength to look towards the source of the pain. He saw a continuous flow of scarlet easing ever so slowly to the other far end of the metal tube before dripping down to the coffin below. The coffin seemed to be alive and drank up every drop of it.
The blood trigger vessel is to be hung for seven days straight… Ch’in Ching reminded himself while not knowing how much time had passed.
Nor how much longer it would be.
He now truly was living to suffer.
He thought back to his early years before he had accepted his fate. He would roll about and throw fits, crying and screaming, whenever the quarterly pain hit.
There was nothing his shifu could do except hold the boy’s hand and repeat, “Fear not, Ching-er, for I am here. I will be with you.”
In the end, however, the sixty-year-old would end up weeping, too. Therefore, as Ch’in Ching grew older, he would bear with the pain stoically no matter how unbearable it became, and he never shed another tear.
Shifu…thankfully you’re not seeing this right now. If you were, I can’t fathom how your heart must ache. Ch’in Ching pondered silently. As he did so, the pain seemed to go away just a little bit.
Only the hearts of those who love you wholeheartedly would ache for you. Ch’in Ching struggled to look up towards one corner of the chamber. The voice continued quietly. But this man’s heart will not.
Shen Liangsheng stood in that nook without a sound. Ch’in Ching could not see his face through the darkness, but he thought the man appeared rather like a statue, not speaking, not moving.
It’s a crying shame that even though this man’s heart won’t ache for me… Ch’in Ching wanted to chuckle but did not have the energy to raise his lips, so he continued thinking silently. …all my tears as an adult have been shed before his eyes.
Losing consciousness, waking, losing consciousness again, waking again… He lost count of the hours and days and became numb to the pain.
Every time he came to he would look towards that corner.
And Shen Liangsheng would be there every time, as though he had been standing there the entire time he hung there, never leaving for one moment.
“What is the time?”
With the pain in his heart under control, Ch’in Ching felt stronger and spoke to Shen Liangsheng for the first time.
“’Tis the last day.”
“Ah…soon then.” Ch’in Ching exhaled in relief that the days of suffering were coming to an end. As a result, his mood lightened as well, enough for him to joke with the other man. “Say…you have not been standing there all this while…have you? Escape is futile even if I grew a pair of wings….”
“Ch’in Ching.”
Shen Liangsheng stepped out of his dark corner for the first time and approached the metal coffin. Looking up at the hanging man, he enunciated each word slowly,
“After you die, I will live on.”
“…”
“Every bit of pain you suffer now was given unto you by me.”
“…”
“And I have witnessed it with my very eyes and memorized every bit of it.”
“…”
“From this day on, I shall remember it every day and dream of it every night.”
“…”
“So that I may live in pain every single day for the rest of my life.”
So that’s how it is…
Ch’in Ching looked into the man’s eyes and saw what he had always seen. Within them was no emotion, only pure indifference and dead silence.
His heart seemed to rumble and crack, after which all that was left in it was devastation and barrenness.
Ch’in Ching realized the indifference and silence in his eyes were not for him.
But for the rest of his life.
Chapter XIX
The dim chamber fell silent.
Ch’in Ching spoke no more, only bowing his head as though he had lost consciousness again.
Some four hours later, the gates to the chamber were suddenly pushed open. In walked the two Elders and four t’angchu. Without any apparent cause, all the candles in the chamber relit, making it as bright as day.
Miao Jan walked close to Shen Liangsheng and asked quietly, “Hsiao-Shen, how are you holding up?”
For the past seven days, Shen Liangsheng had cast his duties aside and stood there without eating or drinking. Although she knew his foundations were strong, she was nevertheless concerned because at the end of the day, he was a man.
“Not an issue.” He gave a slight nod, his eyes still glued to the man imprisoned by the chains.
…take a good look then, because you won’t get much longer anyway unless you want to hold on to his corpse for the rest of your life.
Miao Jan heaved a silent sigh and held her tongue.
Actually, Ch’in Ching had not lost consciousness.
Even if he had, he would have roused in the last moment.
After all this time, the moment he had awaited had inexorably come.
The seeds of hetu that had been planted deeply in his veins were awakening and soon would yield the fruits of vipaka.
“But Shen Liangsheng, did you know…”
The moment he noticed the unrest in his veins, without a care for the others in the chamber he blurted out his answer.
“What I truly desired was never your heart.”
As soon as the last syllable faded, a golden glow beamed down from the heavens.
Word by word, Ch’in Ching activated the Buddhist mantra which he had memorized since childhood and which had long ago merged into his veins.
The golden, holy light grew increasingly stronger and enveloped the coffin in the centre and the person hanging above it.
“No!” The two elder
s reacted first and flung their weapons out at Ch’in Ching at top speed, but the pure light of Buddha quietly rendered them into fine dust.
A chilling shriek sounded from the coffin but only lasted a mere instant, the golden rays vanishing as well.
Six people rushed towards the coffin, eager to assess the situation. Only Shen Liangsheng leapt up, shattering the metal chains with his ch’i and catching the man that fell straight into his arms.
The Mantra of Extermination. Every word required flesh and blood in exchange for its power. With each word uttered, the body withered a little more.
Shen Liangsheng witnessed with his very eyes the incredible speed with which the man grew weak and old amidst the holy light.
Black silk into white fibres, green youth into grey bones.
‘Twas but a moment or two.
What fell into his embrace had already become a dessicated corpse.
“I was wrong…this is truly the last time.”
One knee on the ground, Shen Liangsheng held the man in his last moments. His mind was empty. He gazed at the face now devoid of flesh and blood, no more than a dried layer of skin stretched over bones. He listened as a hoarse, ancient voice spoke three final words to him:
“I love you.”
“NO!”
Meanwhile, the creature in the coffin had clearly been extinguished. Although a human shape had formed, it would be impossible for it to live.
The two elders were filled with fury and hatred, thinking Shen Liangsheng had betrayed the sect, and instantly charged at the hufa.
Miao Jan was naturally shocked as well but had some composure left. Immediately, she cried out and dashed forth to receive the blows of the two elders. Blood spewed out violently from her mouth.
“My Elders, this isn’t what it…” Miao Jan had no time to rechannel her ch’i as she struggled to calm the enraged elders while coughing up blood. But she noticed that everyone was looking at a spot behind her, so she turned around without much thought.
She saw Shen Liangsheng rise with the dried corpse in his arms, his face as still as backwater.