Chapter 6: Initiation
785 Words
Next morning, Shen Moyan went back to the temple.
Zhang Shouyi sat in the sun at the boiler room entrance. Seeing him arrive, he pointed to a small stool beside him. "Sit."
Shen Moyan sat.
"Starting today, I teach you." Zhang Shouyi said. "But not for free. You do things for me."
"What kind of things?"
"Sometimes the temple gets... requests. Someone's house haunted, someone's plagued by something, someone dreams of the dead asking for help. These things, we handle. Before, I went. Now, you go."
Shen Moyan thought. "Me, alone?"
"At first, I come along. When you've learned, you go yourself."
Shen Moyan nodded.
"Alright. First lesson today: What is a charm?"
Zhang Shouyi pulled a piece of yellow paper from his pocket and unfolded it. On it was drawn a charm Shen Moyan couldn't read.
"Charms aren't drawn randomly." Zhang Shouyi said. "Every stroke has rules. The head represents the deity invoked, the body represents the power, the tail represents the destination. When drawing, you must concentrate on the deity you're invoking, the matter you're handling, the place you're sending it to. Miss any of the three, the charm won't work."
He pointed to the top. "This is the Three Pure Ones head, representing the Jade Pure, the Upper Pure, the Great Pure. Three strokes, not one less, not one more."
Then he pointed to the middle. "This is the body, where you write the matter you're handling. Expelling evil, calming a house, curing illness—each different."
Finally he pointed to the bottom. "This is the tail, representing the destination. The power you send out must have somewhere to go."
Shen Moyan stared at the charm. Zhu Quan's voice sounded in his head: "He's teaching right, but too basic. The nine-stroke head I teach is ten times more complex."
"Learn the basics first," Shen Moyan thought back.
"Up to you."
Zhang Shouyi put away the paper and stood. "Enough theory for today. Go home and practice drawing. Use a brush, on paper. Bring them tomorrow for me to see."
Shen Moyan went back to the shop, found a stack of scrap paper and an old brush, started practicing.
First stroke—crooked.
Second stroke—head correct, but third stroke too long.
Third stroke—head right, but didn't know what to write for the body.
He practiced all afternoon, drew hundreds, not one passable.
Zhu Quan was howling with laughter in his head. "You call this drawing charms? This is demon scribbles!"
"If you're so good, you do it."
"I'll do it then." Zhu Quan said. "Relax, let me possess you a moment."
Before Shen Moyan could refuse, his right hand moved on its own. It picked up the brush, dipped in ink, touched paper—smooth as flowing water, complete in one go. Nine-stroke head, perfect in every detail, landed on the paper, faintly glowing.
"See that?" Zhu Quan's voice was smug. "This is how you draw charms."
Shen Moyan stared at the charm, speechless.
Then he felt control of his right hand return.
"Got it?"
"I see how it's done, but my hand doesn't know how."
"Practice more. I possess you once a day, you copy. Do it a hundred times, you'll get it."
For the next seven days, Shen Moyan repaired books by day, practiced charms at night, took cases past midnight, slept in the early morning. He slept only two or three hours a day, spent 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.
"Second karmic obstacle's coming," Zhu Quan said.
"What obstacle?"
"Don't know. But one stroke, one obstacle. Second stroke complete, second obstacle's 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?
Next day, he got his answer.
Old Zhou called him. "Xiao Shen, got a job if you want it. Client wants a set of books repaired. Offering good money."
"What books?"
"Genealogy of the Maoshan Sect, complete set of twelve volumes. Client says, repair them for a hundred thousand."
Shen Moyan blinked. A hundred thousand? In three years of book repair, he'd never seen that much money.
"Who's the client?"
"Surname Lu, name Lu Jiuyuan."
- Writer
