A Short Story Collection with Non-Human Protagonists - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Huaiqing’s Dream, Part II

It moved forward, staying low.

The candlelight flickered, appearing and disappearing behind the layers of robes hanging on the clothing rack.

In a large wooden tub, Liu Jin sat with her back toward the quietly peeping entity, focused on washing her body. She wore nothing but that single jade bracelet.

Her slender fingers scooped up a handful of clear water, pouring it over her shoulder blades. The water flowed over skin as smooth as congealed fat, rolling off like pearls and vanishing without a trace.

The bath was filled with fresh locust flowers, swirling and bobbing with the ripples, veiling the jade-like skin beneath the surface, refusing to grant the voyeur a clear view.

Normally, a locust tree would never risk its life to immerse itself in a pool of hot water. But fortunately, this was merely a… dreamscape shared between it and Liu Jin.

A vine hooked a red silk sash from the rack. Then, it drew closer in silence. Closer still.

Huaiqing circled the tub, slowly ascending along the seams of the wood. Using the crimson sash embroidered with clouds, it covered Liu Jin’s eyes, winding it into a knot and pulling it tight.

The ripples on the water’s surface betrayed Liu Jin’s momentary panic. But she did not resist.

How long had it been since Huaiqing last touched her? Even it could no longer remember. Its vines had climbed for a long, long time—climbing past a thousand years of separation, past the final inch of rising steam—until they finally pressed gently against the woman’s cheek.

The water bloomed with ripples once more. Huaiqing knew that Liu Jin missed it too.

Liu Jin’s existence was vast and long, while it was but a spark struck from a stone, a body in a dream, a light that vanished in the blink of an eye. Huaiqing could not speak. It could only use two supple vines to encircle the woman’s snow-white arms, loop by loop, feigning a simple embrace.

The tender leaves at the tips of the vines filled the gaps between Liu Jin’s fingers and her palms. Finally, Liu Jin spoke, and with every word, the water trembled.

“…Ah Qing, you shouldn’t have come here.”

But if I am not by your side, where else is there to go?

Huaiqing could not speak. Fortunately, beyond words, it had many other ways to comfort its lover.

A third vine rose from the water, using its water-dampened terminal bud to lightly flick the woman’s earlobe. It wasn’t easy coming to see you… be a little happy.

With her eyes covered, Liu Jin’s sense of touch became exceptionally vivid. She must have known exactly how the vines were caressing her cheekbones, her lips, and her temples. Only by being slow enough could it be vivid enough.

The woman’s earlobes were dyed a dizzying flush by the steam; her breathing grew heavy, and every exhaled breath stirred the layers of water.

A fourth vine, slender as a finger but covered in scars and calloused nodes, slid into the narrow crease of her inner elbow. Aided by the lubrication of the warm water, it used its coarse outer bark to rub back and forth against that small patch of soft, white skin.

So fragrant, so soft.

Huaiqing’s non-existent heart overflowed with a massive, sweet sense of satisfaction.

“Ah…”

Every time her arm was touched by a node, a soft gasp escaped the woman’s mouth. The rough bark and blunt wood were like a bundle of sandpaper that wouldn’t cause harm—gentle, skillful, caressing every texture of Liu Jin from her wrist to her elbow.

The water grew hotter. The beautiful deity grew almost entirely limp, forced to rely on the buoyancy of the water and the vines coiled around her to maintain a precarious balance. The fingers gripping the vines tightened, as if trying to drag Huaiqing down into a literal sea together. To spend many long nights with it, for a thousand, ten thousand years.

“Ah Qing…”

Liu Jin tilted her chin up, revealing the long, lustrous line of her neck. The candlelight swayed, dancing on the woman’s wet collarbones.

Huaiqing responded in kind. Supple and firm vines alike caught Liu Jin’s ankles and wrists, winding around her in circles, entangling her. The pool was full of waves. Water droplets could not stay on Liu Jin’s overly delicate skin; only the places bound by the vines bloomed with faint red marks, like kiss marks. It, the spring night, and all things in existence were destined to sink into her scent.

Dong.

A soft splash: Liu Jin’s silver hairpin fell, sinking to the bottom of the tub. The woman’s long hair tumbled down, scattering in the water, swaying with a lingering, heartbreaking grace.

No one could blame Huaiqing for its transgression. The Fox Immortal Maiden, praised by ten thousand people, was its lover—met, parted, and met again. Without a body that could embrace, the soul could still kiss.

Unfortunately, good dreams are always easy to wake from. When the morning light began to glimmer, Huaiqing had no choice but to retract those willful vines and return to being an honest, ordinary locust tree.

Liu Jin did not wake until noon, and she still would not look at it. However, every time her gaze passed by Huaiqing, a flush would stain her cheeks. Like the sash that had covered her eyes that night.

Hula.

The incense at the Fox Immortal Temple grew more and more prosperous. Liu Jin’s body grew weaker and weaker. She had helped too many people, saved too many lives; now, she was little more than an immortal empty shell. But the people knew nothing of this, and their expectations of her never dwindled.

Soldiers with heavy wounds, aging parents in critical condition, infants on the verge of death… people knelt and cried and begged her to save the lives of their kin and lovers.

What could Liu Jin do? She could no longer save those dying lives out of nothing, yet she could not bear to look at their bleeding eyes. The Fox Immortal summoned the spirits of those people to her home and told them the only way she could make it possible—to use their lives to trade for the life of another.

She could no longer create life from the void; she could only let the lifespan flow like water, transferring from one cup to another. Some were discouraged and left; others went forward without hesitation, pressing bright red thumbprints onto the Life Contracts.

During those nights, Liu Jin was always very sad.

Huaiqing climbed onto her bed in the dream. She was so weak she could barely maintain human form; her tail hung limp behind her, and even the white fur had lost its luster. One vine threaded through the layers of bed curtains, gently wrapping around the fox’s tail. Another vine wound around the fox’s furry ears, rubbing back and forth. The outer skin of the vine had not yet turned to wood; it felt like a human fingertip, parting the soft fur to stroke the tender flesh at the base of the ear.

Liu Jin turned over, pulling all of Huaiqing’s branches into her embrace. Her tears fell on the vines, soaking them until they were soft and damp. At such times, Huaiqing hated that it lacked flesh and bone. It could not give her a real embrace, could not tell her that none of this was her fault. She was merely a medium for fulfilling people’s wishes, not a murderer.

Huaiqing and its little fox huddled together. The woman’s body heat enveloped its stems and leaves like late spring. Huaiqing wished so much that it could warm her in return. Through many long and cruel cycles, it wanted to depend on her for life.

Hula.

Liu Jin rarely went out. Only on the first and fifteenth of every month would she certainly go to the Bodhisattva Temple to offer incense.

That day happened to be the first. Just after Liu Jin and Granny Gu left, a female Taoist priest in black robes entered the gate with her young apprentice. In many previous lives, Huaiqing had seen this priest, surnamed Li, many times.

She didn’t actually have any deep, unfathomable schemes; she was simply of average talent and rigid in mind, obsessed with catching a “great demon” to achieve immortality. When Huaiqing was a human in previous lives, she had fought with her many times, nearly wearing out her tongue.

“How many times must I tell you? Miss Liu is a deity, not a monster.” “She’s a fox transformed; no matter how she changes, she’s a monster.”

That was the kind of stubborn, dim-witted fool she was. To Huaiqing, she wasn’t a god-in-waiting; she was just a dung beetle following a wagon—a fool chasing after nothing.

For some reason, this “Li-fool” had found Liu Jin’s home again. Taking advantage of Liu Jin’s absence, she sneakily brought her apprentice inside, clearly up to no good. Watching her circle the yard, Huaiqing shook its leaves and dropped a glob of bird droppings on her head.

“Oh, Master! It’s so dirty, let me wipe it for you…” her little apprentice cried out, hurriedly pulling a handkerchief from her robes to wipe the filth from the priest’s hair.

Huaiqing wanted to throw more, but the priest had already walked out of its range. Looking around, the priest analyzed with a pretense of wisdom: “The Kan position breeds malice, and the locust tree gathers Yin—this place is indeed a sinister site for refining corpses and raising ghosts!”

“Master, what should we do?” the apprentice asked nervously.

“Come, help me set the Five Thunder Array to burn away the gloom here!”

“Yes!”

The two of them worked themselves into a self-righteous fever. The senior and junior priests busied themselves in the courtyard. They hid Five Thunder Talismans in various spots and wedged seven copper coins into the earth in the shape of the Big Dipper.

“Once we light the Thunder-Inducing Incense at the hour of the Rat, the array will be complete!” Confident of victory, the two hurried away.

Huaiqing dismissed their plan with contempt. Liu Jin was a Fox Immortal personally enlightened by the Bodhisattva; how could she possibly fall to a mere Five Thunder Array?

But it had not expected that, on that day, Liu Jin would not come home. The sun sank inch by inch until the last streak of twilight was swallowed by ink. Fierce winds rose, and dark clouds gathered. A sudden night rain fell, heavy drops battering Huaiqing as if trying to punch through its leaves.

Near the hour of the Rat, Liu Jin finally returned. She must have saved someone else out there; she couldn’t even walk steadily. Granny Gu managed to help her into the house and busied herself getting her medicine.

Huaiqing had to tell them about the Five Thunder Array. But Huaiqing was just a tree. It could not speak. It bent its branches until they almost snapped, but still couldn’t reach the paper and ink on the desk. It swayed back and forth, trying to make a sound, but it was drowned out by the roaring rain.

It knew the hour of the Rat was approaching. Through the rain and mud, it smelled the sharp scent of the Thunder-Inducing Incense. Yet Liu Jin was still lying in bed, her bones frail with illness.

What can be done…

With the Five Thunders imminent, Huaiqing could think of no other plan. It could only stretch all its branches and leaves, using the greatest strength a tree could possess, reaching toward the roiling thunderclouds above the roof—

Hula.

The first bolt of lightning struck it. Pain. Sparks. A foul stench. Its branches caught fire. Huaiqing did not retreat.

Then came the second bolt. The third… the fourth.

“Ah Qing—”

When Liu Jin flew out of the house, Huaiqing’s canopy had already turned into a floating sea of fire. The final bolt of lightning, like a sharp axe, split its trunk clean in half.

“Ah Qing!”

Liu Jin embraced it, tears flowing over its charred body.

It’s okay, it’s okay. It was used to saying goodbye to Liu Jin. Besides, saying goodbye wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Only by saying goodbye can one meet again.

With its last bit of consciousness, Huaiqing moved a small remaining patch of shade to cover the rain over Liu Jin’s head.

Hula…

Tang Yanqing struggled to open her heavy eyes. Her hands were tied behind her back, and there was a strange taste in her mouth—

Li Mingyi was pouring wine filled with paper ash into her mouth. The surroundings were bright and warm… flames were roaring. Like a nightmare.

“Don’t be afraid on the road.” Her supervisor’s lips, coated in dark lipstick, curled into a cold smile. “I’ve written you a letter of recommendation.”