Chapter 10: The Bottom of the Well
728 Words
The next morning, Shen Moyan went to see Zhang Shouyi.
"That well in the backyard of Chenghuang Temple," he said. "There's more than one person down there."
Zhang Shouyi paused, then slowly nodded. "I know."
"You know?"
"That well is from the Ming Dynasty. It's been filled in a few times, and dug open again a few times. Every time it was filled, another layer of bones was added at the bottom. Some jumped in, some were thrown in, some jumped in themselves. Around Chenghuang Temple, over the centuries, no less than dozens of people have died in that well."
Shen Moyan looked at him. "Why haven't they been saved?"
"They've been saved." Zhang Shouyi lit a cigarette. "Every abbot of this Taoist temple has performed salvation rites. But it's never finished. The old ones leave, new ones come. That well is incredibly sinister, as if it specifically attracts people to die there."
"Why?"
"Don't know." Zhang Shouyi took a drag. "Maybe there's something at the bottom."
Shen Moyan was silent for a moment.
"I want to go down and take a look."
Zhang Shouyi looked at him with an indescribable expression.
"Think carefully. I went down that well once, thirty years ago. After that time, I was ruined."
Shen Moyan was startled. "You mean because of that well..."
"Yes." Zhang Shouyi flicked his ash. "There's something down there. I couldn't defeat it. It ate half of my cultivation, left me stuck at a bottleneck for the rest of my life, never able to advance further."
"What is it?"
"Don't know." Zhang Shouyi looked at him. "But if you go down, you can take a look for me."
Shen Moyan said nothing.
"If you're going," Zhang Shouyi stood up, "first finish drawing the complete nine-stroke charm head. You only have the first stroke now. Going down would be suicide."
Shen Moyan nodded.
He returned to the shop, sat at his workbench, and three voices held a meeting in his head.
"Don't go," Zhu Quan said. "I've heard of that well. Something ancient is suppressed at the bottom. With your current cultivation, going down would be suicide."
"I agree with Zhu Quan," Wang Qizhen said. "Matters regarding the well's bottom must be carefully planned. At least wait until you have completed the nine strokes and have the ability to protect yourself before exploring."
"And Sun Yunniang?" Shen Moyan asked. "She's still waiting down there."
Zhu Quan was silent.
Wang Qizhen was silent.
"Her daughter waited four hundred years for someone to remember her," Shen Moyan said. "Her mother has waited even longer. If I don't go down, who will?"
"What can you do down there?" Zhu Quan said. "You haven't even drawn the second stroke."
"Then I'll draw the second stroke first."
For the next month, Shen Moyan practiced charms like a man possessed.
Repairing books by day, practicing charms at night, taking on cases past midnight, sleeping in the early morning hours. He slept only two or three hours a day, spending the rest drawing charms, chanting incantations, performing ritual steps.
Zhu Quan taught him the second stroke of the nine-stroke head. This stroke was ten times harder than the first—the first was for summoning, the second was for subduing. Once mastered, a single charm could subdue an ordinary fierce ghost.
He drew it three hundred times before he successfully completed his first charm with the second stroke.
That night, he held the charm, watching it glow in his hand. The black on his fingertips deepened again.
"The second karmic obstacle is coming," Zhu Quan said.
"What obstacle?"
"Don't know. But one stroke, one obstacle. With the second stroke complete, the second obstacle is near."
Shen Moyan put the charm away and lay down to sleep.
Just before sleep took him, a thought crossed his mind: What would the second obstacle be?
The next day, he got his answer.
Old Zhou called him. "Xiao Shen, there's a job if you want it. A client wants to commission a set of book repairs. Offering good money."
"What books?"
"The 'Genealogy of the Maoshan Sect,' a complete set of twelve volumes. The client says, repair them for one hundred thousand."
Shen Moyan was taken aback. One hundred thousand? In three years of book repair, he'd never seen that much money.
"Who's the client?"
"Surname Lu, named Lu Jiuyuan."
- Writer
