Mysterious Country 1: Mist-Shrouded Champa: Volume 1: Chapter 5: The Lantern Bug 

Mysterious Country 1: Mist-Shrouded Champa: Volume 1: Chapter 5: The Lantern Bug

Countless fireflies were swarming through the air in dense, flowing masses, their light gathering and shifting the very image of the City of Wrongful Deaths rising from the earth.

The three of them crouched behind Zhao Laobie, eyes dazzled by the spectacle. Only now did they understand that what they had seen from a distance across the wild grass that blazing lantern city had been nothing more than an enormous congregation of fireflies. Had they not witnessed it with their own eyes tonight, they could never have imagined such a thing was possible.

Sima Hui remembered hearing the old saying that fireflies are born from rotting grass. When they gathered in such numbers, they must concentrate a heavy yin energy and that energy would retreat when it encountered the yang vitality of the living. Moreover, the firefly city was in constant slow motion. Earlier, when the three of them were lost in the graveyard and had used the distant glow as a reference point, it didn’t matter whether they walked fast or slow, toward it or away they were bound to lose all sense of direction sooner or later, drifting deeper and deeper into confusion, exactly as if they had wandered into a ghost alley.

But why had they been able to draw so close to it now? Sima Hui thought it over briefly and arrived at the answer: it had to be the Wind-Calming Pearl, whose yin rot was more powerful than the living energy radiating from four people, effectively masking it. What he didn’t yet understand was why Zhao Laobie had gone to such lengths to approach the firefly city in the first place.

Zhao Laobie dropped his voice to the barest murmur and spoke to the three of them: “Those ghost-fire lantern insects are born from dry grass and rotting flesh. A congregation of fireflies forming a city like this isn’t something you should ever see in the world of the living. This alone proves that something extremely yin and dark is buried underground here something powerful enough to draw this many fireflies together and keep them from dispersing. I, Zhao Laobie, have spent my whole life searching from Manchuria to the Central Plains and on to Hunan and Hubei half the country, countless years of effort. What I have been looking for all this time is that very thing. But one hand cannot clap alone. If you can help me, so much the better. Once it’s done, you will be rewarded.”

It turned out that Zhao Laobie was deeply versed in ancient arts. Beyond his skill in identifying and hunting for treasures, he had been initiated by an unusual master into the refined principles of physiognomy, and was equally fluent in geomancy, the eight trigrams, and the five elements. He wandered from village to village, seeking out rare and precious things, and had at some point learned that a firefly city appeared near Luosi Graveyard — a phenomenon that shifted and transformed unpredictably, appearing only on certain midsummer nights in particular years.

According to what he had learned, the fireflies were said to be the ghost-fire phosphorescence of the City of Wrongful Deaths made manifest. This phantom fire-city flickered in and out of existence and was not something that could be seen at any ordinary time — it only appeared in years of disaster and calamity, when the gates of the underworld were flung open to gather in souls. It was no good omen. Zhao Laobie theorized that something extraordinary must be buried near the firefly city — something that had drunk up the essence of the sun and moon and the vital energy of heaven and earth, leaving an entire vein of the earth’s power withered and dead. Whatever it was, it was no small thing. The only way to find it was to track the firefly city to its source, and only then could the art of treasure-seeking be brought to bear.

Within several hundred li of Changsha, the fengshui was what was called “nine dragons returning to their positions” nine veins of earth-energy, each dragon with a different character and a different degree of fortune. The surrounding area was rich in ancient tombs, spanning from the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods all the way down to the Ming and Qing an uncountable number of lords, generals, nobles, and officials lay buried there. From the terrain around each tomb one could make rough judgments: those buried in flat plains tended toward simplicity and modesty; those buried in mountains and ridges tended toward grandeur and extravagance.

But Zhao Laobie was not a tomb robber. What he was looking for lay along a depleted vein specifically, in the stretch of land running from the Black House ruins to the Luosi Graveyard, where the firefly city appeared. Through repeated surveys, he had determined that the Luosi Graveyard was a wide, low-lying expanse of interconnected burial grounds, an endless landscape of grave mounds and old tombs. Before the Republic it had been a paupers’ burial field; most of the grave mounds had no headstones, their shapes swallowed beneath dead grass and drifting haze. Weasels liked to make their dens in cold, damp burial chambers, so beneath the grave-grass the entire area was riddled with holes the animals had dug.

These holes and tunnels varied from shallow to deep, scattered everywhere like stars, all hidden beneath the tall grass with nothing to betray them on the surface. If a traveler set foot wrong, they would plunge into one; even if they were lucky enough not to break an ankle, by the time they managed to haul their leg back out it would be gnawed to the bone the weasels and field mice lurking in the grave-holes would have stripped the flesh clean, leaving nothing below the ankle but slick, blood-red bone. The place was easy to get lost in even in broad daylight. And the firefly city only appeared at night, retreating whenever the living drew near. To trace it back to its origin was no simple task. Searching and digging blindly among the graves would be like dragging a needle up from the bottom of the sea.

Everything in this world depends on fate and opportunity and opportunity, by its very nature, cannot be forced. Zhao Laobie had searched across many places over many years, exhausting his ingenuity, and had finally located the Wind-Calming Pearl inside the Black House butcher’s block. He had everything he needed except the one final element. What he had been waiting for was the right moment to approach the firefly city.

He estimated that what he was looking for was no small object, and moving it out of the graveyard would not be easy on his own. So he had drawn Sima Hui and the others in to help, promising generous reward in return. By the old customs of his trade, however, those who helped were not permitted to ask about specific details until the job was done.

Sima Hui and Luo Dahai had already resolved to see this through and the prospect of reward made the decision easy. Xia Qin knew that once Sima Hui had made up his mind, neither heaven nor earth could stop him. Things had gone too far to turn back. She agreed to help.

Zhao Laobie was still a little uneasy, and leaned close to Sima Hui, murmuring: “Let’s be clear about one thing from the start: once it’s done, anything I have is yours anything at all. Except the one thing I find tonight. That is not on the table.”

Sima Hui answered with deliberate disdain: “My family, if you must know, has its roots in the old outlaw world. We once had treasures of every imaginable kind. Even the rope in the back stable used to tie up the donkeys was the very rope Lady Yang Guifei hanged herself with at Mawei Slope. The paper on our windows was a Northern Song-dynasty map of heaven and earth. You think I’m going to covet something you dug out of a wilderness grave?”

Zhao Laobie’s eyes were narrow and his mind narrower still, and he always measured others by his own standards. He didn’t quite dare believe it, and pressed: “You mean that?”

Sima Hui thought: Who do you take me for? Would I go back on my word? He swore a solemn outlaw’s oath: “The court has its law, the rivers-and-lakes world has its code. An upright man does nothing to shame his conscience, and a man ten feet tall cannot hide from heaven. With the Eighteen Arhat Ancestors as my witness if a single false word has passed my lips, may I die without a grave to be buried in.”

Zhao Laobie nodded. “Those are weighty words. It seems Chief Sima speaks plain truth. The night is getting on we’d better move quickly.” He led the three of them through the undergrowth, crouching low, following the firefly city as it drifted slowly across the dark wilderness.

By now the night was at its deepest. Scattered lone fireflies were rising from the depths of the grass in streams, joining constantly into the firefly city. The walls of light formed by tens of thousands of fireflies emitted rolling waves of luminous mist that blazed like a swath of the night sky.

At such close range, all they could see was fireflies hurtling in every direction, swirling curtains of light coiling and unraveling without end. For Sima Hui, Luo Dahai, and Xia Qin, watching the firefly lights flash and vanish, the scene was dizzying and dreamlike as though their eyes had ceased to be enough to take it all in.

Zhao Laobie observed for a long while, and finally traced the majority of the fireflies to a source: they were emerging from behind a single grave mound. Whatever could cause dead grass to transform into living creatures must be the most heavily decayed and yin-saturated spot in the area — and something strange must lie beneath it. He immediately led the three of them forward.

In the thick grass ahead was a sunken pit, shaped like the bottom of a wok. Inside it grew a dense tangle of weeds. When they pushed aside the man-high undergrowth, they found beneath the grass cover a crack in the earth several meters long and narrow, just wide enough at its broadest point to admit a person. Along the cold clay walls on either side, grass roots coiled in masses, and between them clung dense clusters of firefly larvae not yet fully formed. From the deepest point came a steady cool breath of air, and the darkness was total.

The soil throughout the Luosi Graveyard was loose, and prolonged drought had caused extensive cracking; on top of that, the burrowing activity of field mice and weasels had created an underground network of cavities. These were unstable they could collapse at any moment with a shift of earth or stone. No sane person would climb down into one without a death wish.

Zhao Laobie had brought two coils of long rope. He tied the lantern to one end and slowly lowered it down, using the light to examine the bottom of the crack.

When he’d let out some ten or more meters of rope, in the wavering shadows of the swinging lantern he could just make out something at the base of the fissure: a dark stone. Its surface was uneven and pitted with holes of varying sizes. The texture looked as smooth as jade. It was about the size of a grain-measuring scoop, probably weighing several dozen jin, and in the light below it gave off a cold, eerie gleam.

Zhao Laobie lay on the ground and hauled up the rope, leaning over the edge and peering downward. The moment he saw it, his hands began to tremble with excitement. He murmured repeatedly: “Heaven has seen fit to reward me.”

Sima Hui and the others were thoroughly mystified. They had imagined Zhao Laobie was after some world-shaking treasure. It turned out to be an unremarkable chunk of black rock.

Once Zhao Laobie had fixed the location in his mind, he hauled the lantern back up, untied the rope, and fastened it around his own waist. He would go down himself to retrieve the treasure, while Sima Hui and the other three managed the rope from above.

Xia Qin’s curiosity got the better of her. “Master Zhao,” she whispered, “is it some kind of mineral ore?”

Zhao Laobie couldn’t suppress his satisfaction, and gave a smug chuckle: “Mineral ore? You ignorant girl you’re still wet behind the ears. Do I look like someone who goes prospecting for ore?”

Luo Dahai was not about to be put off. He squared his face and said: “Stop being mysterious. Given that we’re acquainted, I’m advising you not to misjudge the situation. If you don’t tell us what this is right now, the moment you climb down into that hole, we’ll bury you alive.”

Zhao Laobie was genuinely startled. He was quite sure Luo Dahai was exactly the type of person to carry out such a threat. He quickly backed down: “All right, all right, gentlemen perhaps I did misjudge the situation somewhat. Please, no dirty tricks.”

Luo Dahai said impatiently: ” ‘Perhaps’? You absolutely misjudged the situation. Now tell us what is this stone?”

Zhao Laobie relented. Pipe still in his mouth as always, he crouched down, refilled the bowl, and as he smoked he asked: “Do you know where this thing comes from?”

Luo Dahai and Xia Qin were completely stumped. Luo Dahai snapped: “Obviously not, or we wouldn’t be asking you.”

Only Sima Hui, seeing how Zhao Laobie treated this nondescript black stone as the ultimate prize, reasoned that it must be something far out of the ordinary. He thought for a moment and said: “We’re in a wild, uninhabited burial ground. If it isn’t something that formed here naturally, it was buried by someone in ancient times. As to its exact origin, I have no idea.”

People who truly know their craft generally prefer not to explain too much it risks making them seem shallow. Zhao Laobie had this same habit. He allowed himself a pleased smile and said: “This thing is extraordinarily rare. Even the Empress Dowager Cixi in her day possessed only a piece the size of a fingernail. You want to know where it comes from?” He paused for dramatic effect, then raised a finger and pointed at the sky: “From up there. It fell from heaven.”

Sima Hui was bewildered for a moment. He looked up at the night sky and then it came to him. “Is this… a thundergod inkstone? A leigongmo?”

Zhao Laobie confirmed it with a nod. “It goes by many names, differing by region and era some call it a thundergod stone, others a lightning stone. But whatever you call it, what it actually is, is a meteorite a stone that fell from beyond the sky. According to historical records, one such stone trailed fire down onto the city of Xianyang in ancient times, incinerating every bystander in the area. The thundergod stone is like black jade in its texture, capable of withstanding extraordinary heat and because it arrived from beyond the heavens, the ancients regarded it as the ultimate treasure, saying it contained within it the very secrets of heaven and earth.”

He went on: “And there is more. According to ancient tradition, stones ward off misfortune, and the thundergod inkstone in particular can serve as a household spirit a zhaixin. Great families in Shanxi and Shandong kept ancestral halls, and if a thundergod inkstone was enshrined inside, it would protect the household, bring peace, wealth, and prosperity without any effort on the family’s part, drawing in the gold and silver of the world as easily as breathing.”

The Luosi Graveyard sat on one of the nine dragon veins encircling Changsha, and this thundergod inkstone was most likely the pearl held in the dragon’s mouth. While meteorites were not entirely uncommon in the world, most were simply stone or iron; only those with this black jade texture could truly be called a leigongmo. Black is the most yin of all things it had corrupted the grass, drawn the mountain fireflies together into their city-like swarms, and made this a genuinely rare treasure of the world.

However, according to what the ancient texts prescribed, installing a thundergod inkstone as a household spirit was by no means straightforward. The smallest misstep would invite disaster rather than fortune, because the stone’s nature was so intensely yin that the living should not approach it directly. First, one had to obtain the flesh-pearl formed within the body of an old centipede and place it inside the inkstone, where over time it would gradually generate a layer of living tissue around the stone’s surface. Only through this process could the inkstone’s yin rot be neutralized.

Beyond that, the household was required to slaughter a black hen and a white dog every single day, drenching the tissue-wrapped inkstone in their blood. Only through this kind of devotion could the household spirit be kept in residence. Once established, the Zhao family would enjoy boundless wealth and happiness, more fortune than could ever be spent, blessings without end. But the moment the offerings were interrupted even for a single day disasters of every description would come pouring in immediately: not merely ruin, but complete annihilation, inescapable no matter where one fled.

Luo Dahai was skeptical. “If that’s how it works, you’d be living in terror every single day. Sounds to me like having nothing is the real good life. We of the propertyless class have pasted the kitchen god on the sole of our shoes we can pick up and go anytime, live freely anywhere under heaven, no strings attached.”

Sima Hui suspected Zhao Laobie was not being fully honest either. Where on earth would anyone find a black hen and a white dog every single day? The man clearly had some other purpose for digging up the thundergod inkstone, but pressing him further would yield nothing Zhao Laobie would never reveal the full truth. Sima Hui let it go.

By this point Zhao Laobie had smoked his fill and said as much as he was going to say. He stood, squeezed himself into the earth fissure, and the other three worked together to control the rope, carefully lowering him down alongside the thundergod stone.

Zhao Laobie gripped the grass roots with his hands and braced his feet against the earth walls, clearing away layer after layer of firefly larvae. From the surrounding evidence he could tell that the meteorite had struck first, and the crack in the earth had formed afterward. Now the jet-black thundergod inkstone hung suspended in the middle of the fissure, connected to the walls on both sides at only a fist-sized point of contact it looked as though the slightest disturbance would send it tumbling into the abyss below.

Zhao Laobie had no intention of losing this prize when he was so close to it. He moved with extreme care, signaled Sima Hui to lower the second rope, and with gentle hands bound the thundergod inkstone securely. Once he was satisfied the knots would hold, he raised his lantern and traced several wordless signs in the air.