Chapter 7: The Plea for Help
997 Words
Next morning, Shen Moyan went back to the temple.
Zhang Shouyi was sitting in the sun at the boiler room entrance. Seeing him arrive, he pointed to a small stool beside him. "Sit."
Shen Moyan sat down.
"Starting today, I'll teach you," Zhang Shouyi said. "But it's not for free. You'll do things for me."
"What kind of things?"
"Sometimes the temple gets requests for help. Someone's house is haunted, someone's plagued by a malevolent spirit, someone dreams of the dead asking for help. These matters are our responsibility. Before, I handled them. Now, you will."
Shen Moyan thought about it. "Me, alone?"
"At first, I'll come along. When you've learned, you'll 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 that Shen Moyan couldn't understand.
"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, and the place you're sending it to. Miss any of the three, and the charm won't work."
He pointed to the top. "This is the Three Pure Ones head, representing the Jade Pure, the Upper Pure, and 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 is 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, and Zhu Quan's voice sounded in his head: "He's teaching correctly, but it's 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 up. "Enough theory for today. Go home and practice drawing. Use a brush, on paper. Bring them for me to see tomorrow."
Shen Moyan returned to the shop, found a stack of scrap paper and an old brush, and began to practice.
First stroke—crooked.
Second stroke—the head was correct, but the third stroke was too long.
Third stroke—the head was right, but he didn't know what to write for the body.
He practiced all afternoon, drew hundreds, not a single 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 for a moment."
Before Shen Moyan could refuse, he felt his right hand move on its own. The hand picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and touched it to paper—the strokes flowed like a moving dragon, complete in one go. The 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'll possess you once a day, you copy it. Do it a hundred times, and you'll get it."
For the next seven days, Shen Moyan worked during the day and practiced charms at night. Zhu Quan possessed him once a day, drawing a complete nine-stroke head, and Shen Moyan copied it.
On the evening of the seventh day, he finally drew a charm he could be proud of—nine-stroke head, Three Pure Ones and Six Harmonies, not a stroke out of place.
He held the charm up and stared at it for a long time.
"Congratulations," Zhu Quan said. "You are officially initiated."
Shen Moyan put the charm down, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long breath.
These seven days, he had hardly slept. Practicing charms until two or three every morning, repairing books during the day. But strangely, he didn't feel tired. His body felt energetic, his eyes were getting brighter, and even his appetite had increased.
"That's the spiritual energy nourishing you," Zhu Quan explained. "With me inside you, my spiritual energy slowly seeps into your body. In the future, you'll need less and less sleep, and you'll eat more and more."
"What other changes?"
"Your strength will increase. You'll be able to see in the dark. You'll hear sounds from far away. These are just side effects."
Shen Moyan looked down at his hands. They looked the same as seven days ago, but when he held the brush, he could feel something different—like a warm current surging from within, flowing down his arm to his fingertips, then from the brush tip onto the paper.
"This is spiritual energy?"
"Yes. You have my spiritual energy now, but it's not yet refined. After you learn inner alchemy and refine it into your own, that's true initiation."
Shen Moyan stood up and walked to the window. Outside was Chenghuang Temple Back Street, lit by streetlamps. Occasionally, pedestrians passed by. He could see everyone's shadows—some were normal, some were not.
"Those you see," Zhu Quan said, "some are wandering souls, some are earth-bound spirits, some are just passing through. Don't mind them. As long as they don't bother you, pretend you don't see them."
Shen Moyan nodded.
He could now distinguish them. The problematic ones, when they walked, they floated. Their steps made no sound. Lit by the streetlamp, they cast no second shadow. Some glanced at him, some didn't, each going their own way.
These seven days, he had slowly grown accustomed to it.
Getting used to things—what a terrifying concept.
- Writer
