FMT 2

Chapter 02  Entering the Temple to Pray for a Child

Every time Liandan thought of the way that old monk had looked at him, his whole body trembled.

That night, while Old Madam Chen was asleep, Liandan secretly ran back home to beg his parents to save him.

But his parents were busy arranging a marriage for his younger brother and had no time to bother with him.

Liandan told them about the old monk, but his father slapped him and said he was disrespectful to the gods and buddhas. His mother did not scold him, only sighed and said that a married ge’er was like water thrown out, that Liandan was already part of the Chen family, and the Bai family could not interfere in Chen family affairs.

Liandan left the house crying. His mother followed behind, wiping her tears and saying, “Do not hold a grudge against your parents. Obey your mother-in-law. Endure it. When she holds a grandson, your days will become much better.”

Liandan faintly felt that his mother believed him, but she still told him to endure.

With nowhere to turn, Liandan could only shed silent tears and return to the Chen household. He sneaked into the house, took off his clothes, and lay down in the cold bed.

Quietly, he took the memorial tablet of his dead husband from the table and, as his mother-in-law required, held it in his arms.

She did not allow him to lock the door. At night, when she got up, she would often come into his room to check. If she found he had not followed her orders, she would punish him by making him kneel all night without sleeping.

He had lived this way for a long time already. Gradually, he got used to it. When he was wronged, he hugged the tablet at night and cried to it.

Over the year since the marriage, although Old Madam Chen no longer worked much, her age made her weaker. Every day she looked at her young daughter-in-law and felt jealous. Thinking of the five taels of silver she had spent, she felt even worse. Toward her daughter-in-law, she became more and more excessive.

Liandan was scolded almost every day and beaten often. Nearly every night, he cried while holding the memorial tablet, praying for its protection. As time went on, he truly began to see it as his husband. It became his spiritual support.

At night, his tears fell on the cold tablet. The warmth from his thin chest also passed into it.

Liandan curled his body, pressed his cheek to the tablet, and felt the illusion that it carried some warmth like a living person.

The night before going to the temple, Old Madam Chen took out her treasured portrait of her son and showed it to her daughter-in-law. “Look carefully. This is my son Hanwen. He was a scholar, loved cleanliness. At home he often wore a white long robe. He was tall and thin, gentle and refined. Do not fail to recognize him when you see him!”

Liandan forced himself to nod despite his fear.

That night, he barely slept. Before dawn, he hurried to get up and cook.

After eating, Old Madam Chen put on her coat, told Liandan to carry the packed bundle, and the two of them left the house, one in front and one behind.

The old woman’s body was still sturdy, but with her bound feet she could not walk fast. It took them over an hour to reach the gate of Lingyun Temple on the mountain.

Before entering, Old Madam Chen instructed Liandan, “In the temple these days, be diligent. Have some sense. Do not just wait with your mouth open for food.”

“Whatever the head monk tells you, you must obey. If I hear you disobeyed, I will beat you to death when we return!”

Liandan’s little face turned deathly pale. Holding back tears, he nodded.

Old Madam Chen looked around and, seeing no one nearby, lowered her voice. “The booklet I gave you two days ago, did you read it carefully?”

Liandan thought of the shocking diagrams of entangling postures in the booklet and of the scene he had stumbled upon with the old monk and that woman. His stomach turned, but he dared not vomit. He could only suppress it and nod to his mother-in-law.

Old Madam Chen had always despised his weakness. Seeing him like this, she pinched his arm hard, making Liandan cry out in pain. Her fleshy face twisted as she glared at him, saying harshly, “My son was only in his teens when he died. He knew nothing. When he comes back at night, you must take the initiative, serve him well, and make him content!”

Liandan was so frightened he nearly fainted, but he still kept nodding “Yes.” Only then did Old Madam Chen let go of his arm. With red-rimmed eyes, she wiped her own tears and said, “My poor son!”

After wiping her tears, she glared again at her daughter-in-law with a vicious look, gritted her teeth, and said, “If you do not become pregnant this time, I will strangle you to be buried with my son!”

Liandan shrank his shoulders. His face was deathly pale as he was sent into the temple. Old Madam Chen spoke with the head monk for a bit, as usual gave some incense money, and left.

Liandan, clutching his bundle in his arm, was uneasy as he was led to a courtyard at the back of the temple.

He looked around and recognized it as the same courtyard he had stumbled into before. His heart twisted with distress.

A young monk who looked seventeen or eighteen led him into a room. Inside, there was already a ge’er and a woman. When they saw him come in, they looked toward him.

That day was the fifteenth of the lunar month. Every quarter, for three days, Lingyun Temple opened to the villagers below. Anyone sincerely praying for children could stay, as long as they gave some incense money.

Liandan recognized the ge’er. He was also from Kaoshan Village, named Tang Hua. He had been married only half a year, but his in-laws had already rushed to send him up here.

The woman Liandan did not know by name, but her face he could never forget. The red mole at the corner of her mouth was carved in his memory. She was the woman he had seen with the old monk in that disgraceful act.

When Tang Hua saw Liandan, he got up warmly, held his hand, and had him sit together on the cushion on the floor.

Smiling, he said, “Liandan, this is Sister Qingyu from Mangshan Village. She said she came here once last year. Not long after she went back, she became pregnant. At the beginning of the year she gave birth to a big fat son. This time she came hoping for a daughter, so she will have both son and daughter!”

The woman called Qingyu pressed her lips and looked at Liandan. Her eyes swept up and down him with jealousy. She said disdainfully, “So skinny like a stick, only the face barely passable. What is there to long for?”

Seeing the blank looks on Liandan’s and Tang Hua’s faces, Qingyu laughed coldly. Her eyes filled with jealousy and hate, and she turned her head away, ignoring them.

Tang Hua had Liandan sit at his side, his face full of expectation. He said, “My husband said there was no need to come, no need to waste the money. But my mother-in-law said the earlier we conceive and give birth, the better. While she is still healthy, she can help us raise the child. I think that makes sense, so I came.”

“I want a boy. That way my husband and mother-in-law will treat me better.” Tang Hua blushed, holding his face shyly, then asked Liandan, “And you, what kind of child do you want?”

Liandan looked uneasily at the door and then at the window. His lips trembled as he said, “I… I want to go home.”

Tang Hua looked at him for a while, then put his arm around his shoulder. “I heard Madam Chen treats you badly…” His eyes showed pity. “You are two years younger than me.”

Liandan, held in Tang Hua’s arms, turned deathly pale. His lips were almost bitten through. He was filled with despair.

The three stayed in the room for a while. At noon, the young monk brought them vegetarian food. After they ate, he led them separately to the rooms arranged for them.

This temple was not large. It was a two-courtyard layout. In front of the mountain gate stood a big locust tree. Inside the gate were the Hall of Heavenly Kings, the Mahavira Hall, the bell and drum towers. Behind them was a courtyard, and in the courtyard grew an old pine that had stood for many years.

There were a few vegetable plots in the courtyard, with rows of rooms on either side.

The monks usually lived on the west side. Across the vegetable plots, the east side was for lay practitioners and ascetics. Most of the time it was empty, except when passing monks stayed, or when villagers came to fast and pray for children.

Qingyu and Tang Hua were arranged in two neighboring rooms. Liandan, however, was taken by the young monk to another room several doors away. The door of this room faced directly toward the main gate. When the door was open, the courtyard could be seen at a glance.

Tang Hua, watching from not far away, raised his voice and asked, “Can’t he stay next door to us?”

The young monk curled his lip and said, “Those rooms are not cleaned, no one can live there.”

Tang Hua could do nothing. He only said to Liandan, “It’s fine. If you get scared at night, come to my room.”

Qingyu, across the way, heard this, sneered coldly, shot them a mocking look, and went back into her room.

The young monk led Liandan inside, squinting as he told him, “Do not go out again today. Stay in the meditation room and recite scriptures.”

When dusk was falling, the young monk brought vegetarian food. Liandan had no appetite but dared not refuse, so he forced himself to eat it all.

After the meal, he continued reciting scriptures until it was completely dark.

Liandan dared not slack off. The monks in this temple were frightening, but the sacred buddhas in the Mahavira Hall truly carried majesty.

The full moon of the fifteenth rose. The cold moonlight spread across the small courtyard like a veil of gauze.

The young monk who had brought the food, along with another strong middle-aged monk, carried a bathing tub into Liandan’s room and told him to wash himself.

Liandan did not want to undress and bathe in an unfamiliar place. The young monk tilted his mouth in a smile and said, “It’s for your own good. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Frightened by his look, Liandan quickly said, “I’ll wash, I’ll wash.”

The young monk laughed loudly, put his arm around the middle-aged monk’s shoulder, and left. Just before the door closed, Liandan saw him glance back at him, then lean close to the middle-aged monk and whisper something.

Liandan faintly heard him say, “Boss said… tender flesh… must savor… slowly…”

Liandan did not understand what it meant, but his heart jumped violently several times, and he nearly vomited.

After they left, he hesitated for a long time, but still did not dare not to bathe.

He quickly stripped, stepped into the tub, washed as fast as he could, then rushed out, put on clean clothes, rubbed his hair roughly dry, and hid under the blanket.

The sky was completely dark. From the front courtyard came faint traces of voices of pilgrims and the smell of burning incense.

Now, the whole temple was quiet. Only the cries of some unknown animal on the mountainside could be heard, and the occasional sound of the bells hanging from the eaves being stirred by the wind.

Sometimes footsteps passed along the corridor, casting long moving shadows on the paper windows.

From a room in the distance shone the light of a candle. Judging from the direction, it should be Tang Hua’s room.

Under his blanket, Liandan watched that faint glow, and it gave him a little comfort.

But before long, even that light went out. Tang Hua must have gone to sleep.

In the dark room, Liandan tossed and turned. Any slight sound at the door made him jump like a startled cat, staring warily at the entrance.

When the night was already deep and no footsteps had been heard in the corridor for a long while, Liandan heard a strange sound he could not describe.

It was like the wheezing and groaning of a dog whose throat was being choked, mixed with a dull thud, as if something heavy hit the ground.

Soon, the noises stopped. The night became silent again.

He did not know how much time had passed when suddenly a burst of muffled curses broke out at the end of the corridor. The voice was a woman’s, and somewhat familiar.

Tonight, the only woman in the temple was Qingyu. There was no other.

Liandan listened carefully but could not make out her words. The low male growls, however, he could hear clearly.

It was the voice of Monk Yuanjing. He cursed harshly, then came the sickening sound of fists striking flesh. Very soon, the woman made no more sound.

The old monk spat, slammed a door shut with a bang, and hummed a tune as he walked this way.

The footsteps came closer and closer. The humming stopped.

Liandan lay under the blanket, trembling all over, staring in terror at the shadow of a bald head outside the window.

Creak. The door was pushed open. A white mist drifted in through the crack, spreading through the room. Unaware, Liandan inhaled it as he breathed.

Then the door swung wide.

It was the full moon tonight. In the pale light, Monk Yuanjing bared his yellow teeth in a grin at Liandan. He tucked the paper bag in his sleeve, rubbed his hands, and said, “Little beauty, your husband has possessed me. Tonight he has come to consummate with you!”

Liandan’s eyes widened to bursting. In terror, he clamped his hand over his mouth, staring at the old monk.

But Yuanjing thought he was only timid and afraid of him. He was just about to step inside.

At that moment, the old monk realized he could not move his leg forward. Then he understood that Liandan was not looking at him, but above his head.

He lifted his eyes in confusion, only to see a pale hand like dry bone reaching down. Before he could react, two fingers pierced into his eyes with no effort at all.

Blood mixed with some sticky unknown substance spurted from his burst eye sockets. His mouth gaped in a short, inhuman scream. Then the fingers pulled out, and the old monk’s strong body crashed to the floor like a collapsing wall.

Liandan’s face was as white as death. The cry stuck in his throat by extreme terror could not come out at all.

Beyond the wide-open door, after Yuanjing fell, a white figure appeared behind him.

That thing, whether man or ghost, wore a white robe stained everywhere with splattered blood. Long black hair hung loose around him. Lowering his head, he looked at his blood-soiled hands, then wiped them with distaste on Yuanjing’s clothes.

Then he noticed someone else in the room. He raised his head and looked at Liandan in the moonlight.

Liandan’s eyes filled with tears. He was so frightened he almost fainted.

The face looking at him was clearly a skull covered with a thin layer of white flesh, the eyeballs bulging out.

A gust of wind blew in from outside, carrying the stench of blood and rot, mixed with a strange sweetness.

This was a ghost, not a man.

His mother-in-law’s words sounded again in his mind: “He was a scholar, loved cleanliness. At home he often wore a white long robe, tall and thin…”

It… it had truly come.

Liandan’s tears streamed down. His lips trembled open, but no sound came out. He only mouthed the word: “Husband.”