Oracle Bone

by Lydia Kwa

  “You seem to think this oracle bone would aid you in this?”

  Gui snarled, baring its sharp teeth. Its foul breath made Qilan wince. “You can’t fool me. I know this oracle bone belonged to Ao. It’s only fair that I gain possession of it. It will make up for the humiliation I suffered in my previous incarnation as an ugly human.”

  “Are you sure you would know how to harness the bone’s power?”

  Gui stopped in its tracks then once again reared up to its full height, its eyes now gleaming. “I can see the fox in you. So you must understand why I hate. They hate us because we’re not like them. So why should we not hate in return and destroy them?”

  “I don’t hate humans. You’re the one who’s been suffering for eons, trapped by your own hatred. No wonder your head has grown blacker and your neck is so thin. Let me feed you.”

  Gui gasped. “Feed me? How could you? How dare you presume?” The protuberances on its jaws jangled as it stretched its mouth open. It ceased its loud, effortful breathing momentarily. “You know I can simply pounce on you, and you’ll be dead.”

  “You’re probably right,” Qilan replied nonchalantly.

  Gui was caught off guard. “Aren’t you afraid?” it hissed.

  “I’m only agreeing with you.”

  “We can work together. Would be such a waste to kill you.”

  “You can’t destroy me yet. I know how to harness the power of the oracle bone. You don’t need just the bone. You need me as well.”

  “Such an exquisite mix of human and fox, such delicious energy. I must have your soul.”

  “Are you proposing to possess me?”

  “It would be different than what I did with your father.”

  “How?”

  “Co-operate with me or I will destroy you!”

  “You used me to get to my father. He chose to let you possess him. But I refuse. You chose to become a demon in order to take revenge on humankind, but your hatred makes you weak. It’s time for me to take you back to the Underworld.”

  Gui scratched the ground vigorously with its front claws. “You can’t possibly succeed. Enough of this talk.”

  Qilan grabbed the cannabis rod from the altar. She bared her fangs, and flames shot out from her mouth. The rod ignited at the tip. She blew a strong wind at the cannabis rod. The smoke from it formed wisps resembling large snakes that moved quickly toward Gui. The coils of smoke wound themselves around the demon’s body.

  “By the powers of the Divine Ones, I bind you and break the curse.” Qilan brought out the oracle bone. “Behold, Ao’s plastron. A dream wants waking, a sky needs light.”

  “It’s mine!” The demon struggled against the coils of smoke, freeing its front limbs, and lunged clumsily toward Qilan.

  She could feel the plastron start to throb in her hands. The demon’s cold energy began to sap hers as it held her in its suffocating embrace. Coldness crept over her.

  The force of their contrary energies created a whirling torus. It took all of Qilan’s energy to direct the tip of the oracle bone at the web of chairs where there was one tiny central opening. She needed to aim the oracle bone exactly at that opening. A violent tremor ensued as the chairs blocking the doorway disappeared and a powerful force pulled both Qilan and Gui through the portal.

  The well. So here it is, no longer just a dream. What next? Qilan had to focus. But on what?

  She had to put aside her reasoning mind and its attendant fears and tune into the darkness around her. Scanning with her fox eyes, she discovered countless holes along the inside of the well. They were almost perfectly round.

  The oracle bone started to pulse strongly in her hands. The heat emanating from it was immense, and her fingers felt as if they were burning. Then the pulsing stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun. She wondered what the pulsing meant.

  “Is this well an illusion?” she asked the oracle bone.

  It pulsed again.

  She thought of the time four years ago when she took the oracle bone away from Hsu the Elder’s house. It had pulsed more gently then. It had given her visions of the future, the far future, when people and the city—everything—looked different. Then there was Ling’s first experience with the plastron.

  The plastron was a kind of oracle bone after all, but with its own mysterious ways of behaving. Qilan decided to ask it another question. “Can you choose whom or what you would respond to?”

  A burst of pulses.

  “Do you respond to what is most important to the one in possession of you?”

  No response. Sometimes, when the plastron did not respond, Qilan wasn’t sure what it meant.

  Her mother’s voice entered her mind. Be deep and still and so perpetually present.

  This was a familiar phrase to Qilan, but where had she read it? She couldn’t quite recall. She looked up. Far above her there appeared a glimmer of light. Was that sky? Maybe this was a well that opened up to the universe. If the well was a product of the mind, and it opened up to the universe … then it wasn’t a literal place. She’d entered the well when she uttered the inscription and the oracle bone had caused the portal to open.

  In dreams, she had been able to sense her father’s presence, but he was nowhere to be found now that she was here. Neither was there any sign of the demon. This reality was so different than her dreams.

  In the midst of its dark depths are essences. Returning to the root is called stillness. Her mother’s voice again. Qilan suddenly realized where those lines came from—the Xiang’er commentary to Laozi’s teachings. What came after that last line? Stillness is called “restoring destiny.” The restoration of destiny is called “the constant.”

  She pondered the meaning of these lines. She thought of the time, eleven years ago, when she had last seen her father the way he had been before he left for the temple, desperate to save her. Was that his destiny? If he hadn’t left, if she hadn’t needed to flee, she wouldn’t have gone to Da Fa Temple. She wouldn’t have rescued Ling, and that would have meant that Ling wouldn’t be able to become Abbess of the temple some day. All that had occurred was interconnected.

  The demon was poisoned by its hatred; that hatred insisted on its alienation from others. It struck Qilan how alienation and hatred led the demon to want to ingest and assimilate the souls of humans just at the cusp of their emergence into life. Gui practiced annihilation, not connection. She believed she had made the right choice not to separate herself from the demon. It meant overriding all of her survival instincts to welcome the demon’s embrace as it attempted to annihilate her.

  She felt a trace of sadness, but it was soon followed by a lifting of her spirits.

  She asked herself if she would have done what her father did. Her answer was clearly no. She was a different kind of creature altogether. Having chosen to face the demon and join with it had led her to enter this dark well of her dreams. What was the darkness about? The only chance of discovering answers lay in her ability to attain stillness. She focused her mind wholeheartedly on that task. She had to quiet her mind to listen better. Finally, from the holes in the well came the softest hint of wailing. The longer she listened, the louder the sound became. It was not singular, she realized, but an eerie chorus of weeping. Qilan intuited that the holes must represent all the lost souls taken by Gui. This was their well of despair.

  She understood what she needed to do next. She held the oracle bone close to her chest and said aloud, “If this well has arisen from my mind, and I feel constrained in it, then I would like to return to my original freedom. By doing so, may I also restore freedom to the souls of those imprisoned here with me.” She held this wish close to her. The oracle bone throbbed in agreement. She took a deep breath and repeated, “A dream wants waking, a sky needs light.”

  She was back, but now in the front courtyard outside the ruined temple. When she looked into the dark interior of the temple, she saw that the lights had all been extinguished. She stared at the building. To her surprise, th
e whole edifice began to look hazy, its outlines becoming less definite until it disintegrated before her eyes.

  She had a moment of panic and reached into her jacket to feel for the oracle bone. Not there. But her cloth bag was with her, next to her right foot, on the ground. She reached into the cloth bag and felt the outlines of the plastron.

  Just then, her mother’s voice spoke. Return, my dear, return to Da Fa Temple. Quickly.

  The spell had been broken, but she had no way of knowing exactly what had happened. Her mind felt slightly muddled, as if she had been immersed in a deep sleep or stupor. She walked slowly, feeling slightly dizzy. Grateful when she reached her horse, Qilan leaned against the animal and sniffed, the familiar smell comforting her. She started to weep. She wasn’t quite sure why.

  The sun was halfway past the mid-point. Had she been in the well overnight—or longer? How much time had actually passed? Or was she returned back in time to the moment before she entered the temple?

  No answers came, but that didn’t matter now. She tucked her cloth bag into a side pocket of the saddlebag before mounting her steed and setting off in the direction of Chang’an.

  The journey back went much faster. She didn’t know if, in fact, she was riding the horse because it felt as if her mother was riding with her, sitting behind her on the saddle, and they travelled inordinately fast. Time did not seem to move at the same speed.

  She didn’t feel well. Her body began to be wracked by a searing cold that ate at her from the inside out.

  THE INNER PALACE AT TAIJIGONG, NORTH CENTRAL CHANG’AN

  Wu Zhao awoke with a start. She called out to her maid.

  Ah Pu thought that the Empress had once again dreamed of the female ghosts. When she entered Wu Zhao’s bedchambers, she was shocked to find that the Empress’s body was elevated several cun above the kang.

  “Help me, please!” she gasped. A blue mist lay on top of her.

  Ah Pu screamed at the sight. Two guards rushed in and tried unsuccessfully to pry the invisible presence off the Empress. A third guard took a torch and waved it around the Empress but to no avail. As a shrill, piercing sound grew louder, the guards were flung against the walls. The curtain caught fire when the torch landed against it. The shrill sound stopped abruptly, and Wu Zhao was dropped back down onto the kang.

  After the fire was extinguished, Wu Zhao looked sternly at the guards. “Do not report this to the Emperor. Anyone defying my order will be executed.”

  Two new guards were summoned to keep vigil outside the Empress’s bedchamber. Ah Pu returned to her antechamber, shaken up and exhausted. Wu Zhao sat at her table, unable to return to sleep.

  Who was responsible for tonight’s mischief? Doubtless someone opposed to her power. Or someone against Xie’s favoured position with her. A sorcerer hired by Li Zhi? This last possibility unnerved her. She hadn’t heard anything further from Xie yet. He had refused to disclose where he was heading when he left the city.

  Despite herself, she wept. She couldn’t bear the thought that something awful had happened to Xie. She’d become attached to him. Her heart began to beat furiously. Without Xie, how could she bring about the Feng and Shan rituals? She needed his magic. She needed his potions, his spells.

  She clasped her arms tightly in front of her body and rocked back and forth. After a long while, she stopped when she recalled the prophecy. Yes, of course. The prophecy that she would one day become the Emperor. She had to believe it. With or without Xie, she would succeed. She simply had to trust. Her destiny was already carved out for her. She continued to rock her body back and forth, whispering reassurances to herself.

  THE VICE HAMLET, EAST CENTRAL CHANG’AN

  The full moon was slowly obscured and then turned red. The phenomenon lasted for almost a double hour. This instilled wonder and fear in people.

  All activities came to a halt, and the city was thrown into chaos. Many shouted to chase the cursed shadow away. Some rushed out into the streets with pots and basins and hit them hard, creating a ruckus. People stopped what they were doing and went outdoors to watch the eclipse.

  Everyone paid attention except one who sat motionless in the graveyard under the gingko tree. Around the form a cacophony of wails rose up from the ground. A handful of shopkeepers across from the graveyard swore that they saw slight wobbling forms rise up and glow in the dark night under that red moon.

  The next morning, his manservants found Xie’s body under the gingko, limp and desiccated. Around him, a massive amount of fluid had streamed throughout the graveyard, rivulets watering the ground.

  DA CI’EN MONASTERY, SOUTHEASTERN CHANG’AN

  Harelip couldn’t sleep. He got out of bed and made his way to the apothecary.

  He lit one candle and took out his mala, then faced his Buddha statue and said a few rounds of mantras. He stared at the figure and wondered what to do about the drawing Xuanzang had entrusted to him.

  There were preparations afoot. News was delivered to the monastery earlier that morning that there would be Feng and Shan rituals in less than two years’ time. The Emperor and Empress wanted Da Ci’en Monastery to appoint a contingent of monks to be part of the entourage to support their ascension up Mount Tai.

  Huili insisted that Harelip had to be part of the retinue. Taishan was the mountain associated with Imperial authority, with officialdom, and it was popular with devotees. No, this was not the mountain Harelip wanted to go to, especially as part of delegation that sanctioned the rule of an Emperor and Empress who, despite having made some decisions to the benefit of common folk, were also known to be selfish and cruel.

  Xuanzang would never have wanted Harelip to do something that was repulsive and unnatural to him. Even though the great man himself sacrificed so much when he was unable to escape the city. Distinguished personages can’t have as much freedom as we anonymous ones, thought Harelip. Because they are constantly scrutinized.

  Compared to Xuanzang, Harelip felt like an imposter. He wasn’t sure that life at the monastery was for him anymore. For one thing, he was no longer celibate—he sneaked out whenever he could to meet Ardhanari. An image of Ardhanari sleeping next to him flashed through his mind. How much longer would he be able to continue the affair? How long before someone from the monastery discovered his secret? He simply couldn’t imagine how they could continue being together.

  Wait, he pinched himself on the arm, stop ruminating. Maya approached and pawed at Harelip’s ankles. It was not important whether he had known Xuanzang or any of the other monks better than they had known him. What was critical was that he knew himself.

  Xuanzang never got his wish to return to live in nature. He was hampered by the wishes of the Emperor who was his patron. But, Harelip reasoned, I am not Xuanzang, and I don’t have to compare myself to him. He was not an imposter. He knew what he wanted. And he would be prepared to break free of the monastery, to go in search of what would make him happy. His heart and body yearned to be close to Ardhanari, and yet he knew he would never be happy remaining in Chang’an. He would come to resent Ardhanari. For the first time in his life, Harelip knew that he had to follow his spirit’s deepest longing above all else.

  Some day soon, before the Feng and Shan rituals, he would flee Chang’an. He was going to take the few important things he needed, including his Buddha statue, and head for Mount Hua. He would take his life in an entirely different direction than Xuanzang had.

  DA FA TEMPLE, WEST CENTRAL CHANG’AN

  They were all in the front hall, clearing up the offering bowls, preparing the room for the mid-afternoon meditation, when they heard the loud thud outside, followed by a yelp like the sound of an animal in pain.

  The Abbess looked at Sister Lizi and Ling. “You two, go investigate.”

  They recognized her immediately even though she was lying face down on the gravel. They carried Qilan in and saw that her face was scratched up, as if by some wild creature.

  Sister Lizi put her face close to Qilan’s nos
e and felt the slight breath on her cheek. “She’s barely alive.”

  The Abbess was helped down from her seat on the dais and went to Qilan immediately. “Quickly, time is of the essence.” She nodded to Sister Lizi.

  Lizi uncorked a small vial and poured the liquid into Qilan’s mouth. Within a few miao, Qilan opened her eyes—but the look was one of horror.

  Ling touched Qilan’s face and called out, “Sister Orchid … Qilan!” It seemed as if Qilan couldn’t see her.

  They carried her into the infirmary. A couple of nuns were assigned to watch over her.

  “Where is her steed?” asked Ling.

  No one had paid any attention to the missing horse. Ling walked across the courtyard and exited the temple. She looked around. Only a few people strolling by. She whistled, knowing the call to summon Qilan’s horse.

  She waited. And whistled again. She looked across the street at the wooded area and thought of the many times she and Qilan went there. A head popped up. A fox. Then the creature disappeared. Finally, the stallion came to her, and she led him down to the stables.

  “What happened?” cried Old Chen.

  Ling was tearful. “Qilan, she’s … hurt. Something’s wrong with her.” Ling stroked and patted the horse. The stallion didn’t look hurt at all, but he seemed anxious. Ling spoke to him softly.

  Old Chen took off the saddle. The saddlebag was tied only on one end, and the flap not even closed well. Out slipped the cloth bag, the oracle bone falling to the ground.

  She gasped. “The plastron!”

  Old Chen’s eyebrows twitched. “You bring it to Sister Orchid.”

  She understood his meaning immediately and ran back in, sprinting into the infirmary, breathless.

  Xu was there with another nun tending to Qilan whose lips looked drained of colour. She seemed to be sleeping, her belly rising and falling a near-imperceptible amount.