Chapter 128: The Great Temple (Part Three)

In the mid-eighties, firearms of all kinds were rampant in the countryside, and my family was no exception. Because my father had been a soldier, he had a special fondness for them. During those years, he served as the village militia captain, and the militia at that time possessed real hardware. Besides a hunting rifle, our household also kept a Type 56 semi-automatic carbine. By then, the military had already begun equipping troops with the Type 81 assault rifle, so the phased-out Type 56s were designated for the militia and reserve forces. My father loved that gun; it was said to have been salvaged from the Vietnam battlefield. Even though it had seen combat, he kept it polished spotless, tucked away under his bed along with two boxes of ammunition.

I wouldn't have dared to go to the Great Temple alone. I was truly afraid. Only fools or braggarts would claim to fear nothing; anyone who says such things is either a naive hothead or a complete coward. If you don't believe me, ask Cha Wenbin—if you told him to spend a night alone in the Great Temple, I imagine even he would feel uneasy.

He had already left. Gao Cheng’s house was some distance from mine, and since he had a bicycle, I had to walk. The Great Temple was four li away, and two of those li consisted of a lonely, deserted path.

I snuck into my father's room to steal the rifle. Men love guns for two reasons: deep down, they revere violence, and having a weapon in hand makes one feel bold—at least, that’s what the old man himself used to say. We also had a miner’s lamp, the kind with a battery pack strapped to the waist and a light head tied to the forehead with an elastic band. Its brightness was comparable to modern xenon headlights. With these two items secured, I crept out of the house.

At the doorway, I realized this still wasn't enough, so I set my sights on our dog.

My father raised this dog, a crossbreed between a wolfhound and a local cur. It was only two years old and usually acted like a simpleton, wagging its tail at everyone who walked by. I had named it "Daidai."

I dragged it out of its kennel, fetched some meat from the kitchen, and spent half a circle trying to coax it, but the beast stubbornly refused to leave. It infuriated me—it would eat the meat but wouldn't lift a finger to help. I wanted to hit it, but I was afraid of waking my father. My eyes darted around, and I whispered to Daidai, who was cowering back into its kennel, "Come with me, Daidai. How about I take you to find a female dog to play with tonight?"

In truth, Daidai hated me. A year ago, just as it was hitting its prime, it had taken a liking to a female dog in the village. Fatty and I had just returned when we saw a dog mounting another at the village entrance. Fatty teased that even dogs lived more carefree lives than we did, and I, hearing this, threw a rock at them. That throw scared the dog just as it was about to finish its business. Ever since then, it had been impotent, whimpering miserably whenever it saw a female dog. It likely suffered psychological trauma. I didn't even know it was our dog at the time...

Daidai poked its head out of the kennel, considering for a moment. As soon as it fully emerged, I looped a rope around its neck and yanked hard. The beast let out an "Awooo" that nearly scared me to death. I dragged it along and ran, covering half a li in one breath. When I looked back, Daidai was drooping its ears, looking at me with pure terror, clearly unwilling to comply.

I crouched down and said, "I know you’ve got your eye on that female dog at Niu Laosan’s place. Look at you, no backbone. If you’re a real dog, come with me tonight, and I’ll bring that spotted dog back to be your wife. How’s that?"

The dog seemed to understand. After circling twice, it actually trotted over and licked my palm. Damn, what a lecherous dog! Usually, even if I offered it meat, it would dodge me like I was a plague, but now it was trying to cozy up to me.

I felt well-equipped now—dog, money, and gun. Before I left, Cha Wenbin had even tucked two talismans into my waistband. Sometimes a coward’s courage needs a little boosting. Even though I’ve always despised such posturing, I was definitely putting on a show that night...

I actually walked the whole way singing. What was I singing? Teresa Teng’s "Sweet Honey."

Once I reached the massive water cedar tree, I couldn't sing anymore. I don't know whose damn rumor it was that this tree was divine, but people were always coming here to burn incense and pray. Sure enough, three long sticks of incense were still glowing under the tree, burned almost to the base. Looking closer, I saw red and green cloth strips tied to the branches. I was already terrified, and just as I had managed to muster some courage, I was hit with this scene. It was clearly done on purpose!

I cursed the incense-burner a thousand times in my heart, and the song in my throat shifted to, "Amitabha preserve me, Mother Mary preserve me, Taishang Laojun preserve me..."

The Great Temple—the village mortuary—was right before me, only a hundred meters away. The water in the nearby river flowed with a "babbling" sound. Think about it: wandering alone to a place like this in the middle of the night—I felt like I had lost my mind. It was so quiet that even a sane person would be driven mad.

My skin crawled. I was truly afraid. I felt the hair on my neck standing up one by one, and my scalp felt so numb I wanted to scratch it. A buzzing sound echoed in my head, wave after wave. My legs weren't shaking—at least, in the last two years of following Cha Wenbin, I had seen plenty of eerie things, even been alone, and witnessed supernatural entities with my own eyes. But back then, I didn't know what fear was. Tonight, however, I was truly afraid. An invisible pressure crashed down upon me, drilling from the bottom of my heart up to my throat.

Science explains fear as a negative self-protective response under stress, and I suppose that means my subconscious recognized I was in danger. I’m a brave person, so if I felt this way, the danger must have exceeded my threshold.

"Do I go, or do I turn back?" The question repeated in my mind. I was deeply conflicted.

I smoked a cigarette, and my thoughts began to settle. When I stopped thinking, the fear returned, though my mind remained clear.

"Go!" I shouted to myself. I had no other choice. I couldn't go back and lie to Cha Wenbin, saying I had been there, because he trusted me. That was all there was to it.

I was willing to go, but Daidai stayed put. When I tugged at it, it just kept circling, making "woo-woo" sounds—it sounded quite pathetic.

I crouched down and stroked its head. "What's wrong? Are you scared? Truly, a coward raises a cowardly dog. I finally worked up the nerve to go, and now you’re letting me down? Forget about the spotted dog then."

The dog licked my face and turned to walk away. Fortunately, I had a tight grip on the leash, or it would have run off. My anger flared. I yanked it back and scolded, "Look at you! You’re not shorter than any other dog, and you eat more than the pigs at home, but you’ve got no guts! You’re too scared to approach a female dog, and now you’re too scared to keep me company. What the hell is the point of a coward like you? You’re embarrassing me!" As I spoke, my frustration grew. I simply unhooked the leash and shouted, "Get lost! Go back and crawl in your kennel, you spineless dog!"

Letting it go, I gripped my gun and "clack"—I chambered a round. I figured, if I lose my head, it’s just a scar the size of a bowl. If they really pushed me, I’d just come back tomorrow with two barrels of gasoline and burn this broken temple to the ground.

I lifted my foot and kicked hard at the base of the water cedar. The incense and the few plates of offerings tumbled aside. I shouted at the tree, "Worshipping you, begging you, feeding you incense every day—what’s the point? Why don't you solve the people’s problems or keep them safe? You can't do a damn thing! You don't even know when you’ll be chopped down for firewood, yet you’re here playing god. I don't hide my name or change my surname; I am Xia Yi. If you have the guts, keep me in this broken temple tonight!"

"Bang!" The gun went off—I had pulled the trigger in my agitation. After that shot, the fear in my heart vanished, replaced by a surge of masculine courage. Just as I was about to stride forward, something flew over my head with a "whoosh," followed by a strange screech. The chill in my heart returned instantly.

"Woof! Woof!" My dog Daidai suddenly charged out from somewhere, clawing and barking at the tree as if its life depended on it. Seeing this, I wasn't stupid—the problem was definitely in the tree. I swept my headlamp toward where Daidai was barking, and, good lord, a pair of golden eyes were staring right at me!

What was it? An owl. It must have been the thing that dove at me. The elders always said that seeing an owl at night is a bad omen. Experienced hunters, including my father, would pack up their guns and go home if they encountered one—it was a tacit rule. Owls were considered harbingers of misfortune!

In many beliefs, owls, like crows, are equated with death. They are most commonly found in old graveyards—some say it’s because of the rats and snakes there, but regardless, they are symbols of the uncanny!

Many people ask me, "Do ghosts really exist? Brother Xia Yi, have you actually seen one?"

Every time, I answer: "Do you believe in them? If you believe, then they exist. If you don't, they don't." I say I’ve seen them, but if you ask me what a ghost looks like, it’s hard to say. I can tell you this, though: when your heart realizes danger is coming, it’s likely already there. Murphy’s fourth law states: if you worry about a situation happening, it’s more likely to happen. I interpret that as humans having a sixth sense!

I raised the gun. The bird was only ten meters away, watching me motionless. I was confident I could hit it, but after aiming for a while, I gave up. I picked up a rock and hurled it. The bird "whooshed" away. Daidai saw it and charged after it, and I followed in pursuit.

The dog ran a short distance, turned a corner, and vanished. I only caught a glimpse of its tail disappearing behind a wall. I chased after it and found a small hole; the other side of that hole led directly into the mortuary known as the "Great Temple"...