Chapter 463

When I and Pangzi went down the mountain, the village scenery changed again; many common folk were busy in the fields leading yellow oxen, and at that moment the tranquil countryside turned into a lively picture of toil.

When we arrived at the people's dwellings, a burst of loud children's crying came from nearby. The crying was heart-wrenching, making one feel distressed for a while.

I and Pangzi hurried over out of curiosity, and saw a village woman in coarse cloth holding a bowl of rice, desperately trying to soothe a child.

"Qiangzi, be good, quickly swallow the rice, swallowing it will make it better," the aunt's eyes full of anxiety, she kept coaxing the few-year-old child beside her.

And the boy with a bowl-cut hairstyle already had a flushed face, his eye sockets brimming with tears, his voice hoarse from nonstop wailing, his face a blank expression of pain.

"How come everywhere here are your relatives—sometimes Xiang, sometimes Qiangzi. One resembles your past life, the other your son, both are just a fatso." I looked at the chubby child called Qiangzi and couldn't help but smile at Pangzi.

"Tch, I know people all over the world; this is something you can't envy." Pangzi proudly retorted my mockery.

"Auntie, don't worry first, let me see the child." Pangzi comforted, taking the child from the aunt's hands.

The child's appearance was quite strange: his face flushed, he just kept crying, the tears in his eye sockets were actually held back by the pain.

"He has a fish bone stuck in his throat." After staring for a few seconds, Pangzi decisively concluded.

At that moment, the aunt beside also said.

"Yes, my son just got over a cold, I and my husband bought some fish to nourish him, who knew his throat was small and a fish bone got stuck." The aunt briefly recounted the incident, then lowered herself and kept coaxing the child: "Qiangzi, be good, quickly swallow the rice; swallowing the rice will let the fish bone go down."

"Useless, the fish bone might be too big, even rice can't be swallowed." I glanced at the bowl of dinner the aunt held; it was obvious the child had taken a bite. Since even the first mouthful of rice didn't help, it must be that the fish bone is too large, lodged in the throat, rendering water and rice—those old tricks—useless.

"Pangzi, what do we do? We don't have any yellow paper on us, so we can't use the Nine Dragons Bone-Melting Water!" Seeing the child's suffering grow, my anxiety grew as well.

"It's fine, I have a method. Auntie, please bring me a bowl of clear water." Pangzi urged the child's mother.

Seeing the aunt's hesitation, I quickly brought up Pangzi's identity.

"Auntie, listen to him; my brother is a doctor, very capable!"

The aunt half-believing, half-doubting went into the house, and soon she came out holding a bowl of water.

"The water is here… I've already used this method."

"It's fine, auntie, give me the water, it will definitely work." Pangzi snatched the water from the aunt's hand, then faced east, rubbed his forehead, with his left hand performed the Three Mountains Seal to hold the water, and with his right hand formed a sword-finger seal, slowly chanting the incantation.

In less than half a minute, Pangzi drew circles in the clear water with his sword-finger (note: these circle symbols are what we in the trade call 'flower characters'; such flower characters are usually just one or two, used together with the incantation, and are especially emphasized in the southern transmission of the Dharma Sect's talismans.)

After drawing the flower characters, Pangzi dropped a mouthful of blood into the clear water, exhaled a breath, then quickly brought it to the child, opened the child's mouth, and poured it all in.

Seeing Pangzi treat her child so roughly, the aunt was about to scold him, but then her expression first turned to astonishment, then to ecstasy.

Because Qiangzi, who had a fish bone stuck in his throat, after just a sip of water, immediately spat out the fish bone that was lodged there.

This is a minor technique of the Dharma Sect. It's not difficult and easy to master. I think many village children have seen it; a Dharma Sect practitioner with a bowl of clear water can make someone with a fish bone stuck immediately spit it out.

This minor technique is the Nine Dragons Bone-Melting Water, especially effective for dissolving fish bones stuck in the throat; I just never imagined Pangzi could use the Bone-Melting Water in this way.

"Thank you, two immortals, for the water, thank you!" The aunt came to her senses, bowed, and thanked us.

Immortals… I and Pangzi were somewhat startled, and then everyone's expressions became a mix of laughter and tears.

The aunt called us immortals, not meaning we were actual deities, but regarding me and Pangzi as disciples of the Horse Immortal Hall from the Northeast. In the North, the active ones are still the people of the Horse Immortal Hall. And ordinary people even more respectfully call the Horse Immortal Hall's disciples "immortals."

This unintentional act actually brought fame to the Northeastern immortals. However, we can't blame this aunt; we Dharma Sect practitioners differ from Daoists—even when performing rites, we often don't wear Daoist robes or emphasize rituals. Thus, many people who have received help from Dharma Sect practitioners don't know our identity, and simply call the helpful Daoist a "master" or "adept."

The aunt led Qiangzi into the house, not long after she came back out, insisting on stuffing us a small red envelope. Saying it's customary, unavoidable, big or small matters are all matters, any amount is her goodwill. I and Pangzi declined, merely asking her for a few steamed buns for breakfast.

Actually, I often envy those wandering monks and Daoists, in tattered clothes and shoes, traveling the world, wind-bathing and dew-lodging to visit people; when hungry they beg for alms, and upon encountering someone in need they unhesitatingly extend a helping hand. They accept no money, only some food, or a scrap of cloth for patching their own patched robes.

Since I began studying the Dharma, I have always believed this is the true Way—no involvement with profit and money, advocating non-action and selflessness. However, living in this secular world without money simply won't do. Think of rent and utilities, think of family responsibilities; life everywhere incurs expenses, everywhere is pressure; if we don't collect even a little incense oil… we couldn't survive, and this aspiration to propagate the Way could starve a whole family.

Therefore, collecting incense oil is an unwritten rule in the Dharma Sect, Dao Sect, and Buddhist Sect. Some people, when collecting incense oil, judge others: the rich pay more, the poor less. One should strive for impartiality, collecting less oil and doing more practical deeds. Others turn a small matter into a big one, handle one thing as two, and swindle a bit just to earn more money.

In the end, it's merely because human nature varies in countless ways.

Eating steamed buns and drinking clear water, I and Pangzi began to ask that aunt about the history of the stage.

Because Pangzi used bone-dissolving water to dissolve the fishbone stuck in her son's throat, the aunt had no guard against us; not long after, she told us what she knew.

In the aunt's words, the stage is evil—just one word, evil; seven words, evil beyond evil.

Women's hearts are all gossipy, especially older women; village rumors, mysterious strange events—they can generally go on and on about them.

But after inquiring for half a day, Pangzi and I got only the two words 'disappointed'. The aunt said a lot, but the specifics were hardly different from what we already knew—almost just that each year when the play is performed, the troupe encounters some strange occurrences, or detailed details of a certain event. Yet when asked for deeper reasons, the aunt could not give an answer.

"Injustice, oh, a great injustice, Heaven, open your eyes and see this June frost's grievance." While we and the aunt were chatting aimlessly, we heard from not far away a shout accompanied by a folk song.

The owner of that voice was somewhat familiar! I instinctively looked up toward the source of the sound, and the person who came into view made me wryly smile repeatedly.

That ragged beggar is the dead madman who bit me yesterday evening at the stage's edge; now he stands before a dilapidated old house, constantly shouting to the sky, uttering words of injustice.

"Who is this old man?" I pointed at the mad old man and asked the aunt sitting nearby.

"Oh, you mean him? His name is Yuan Xiao! His father, that beast Yuan Zheng, is a deserter, a good-for-nothing." The aunt spat fiercely at the mad old man.

In this revolutionary old village of Hong'an, there are two kinds of people despised by everyone: one is traitors to the Han, the other is soldiers who desert the battlefield.

"Oh, aunt, could you tell us the details?" I exclaimed curiously and moved closer. Since the case had no progress, occasionally pausing to tell a story to relieve boredom wasn't bad.

"Perhaps you outsiders don't know, but we locals know very well about the anti-Japanese affairs…" After giving the old madman another cold glance, the aunt began to tell us about a battle that occurred in Hong'an during the anti-Japanese war.

At that time, during the anti-Japanese period, the Nationalist and Communist armies joined forces to resist. The father of that old madman, Yuan Zheng, was a squad leader in the Communist army.

Hong'an's original name was Huang'an, an old Red Army county during the anti-Japanese period. At that time, the Japanese Sakata 11th Division was launching a fierce attack on Huang'an. The force responsible for defending Huang'an's front line was a unit under **.

A regiment's strength and a division's combined strength are inherently unequal; even if the soldiers fear no death, as the stalemate continued, ** was defeated repeatedly by the enemy division. Reinforcements had not yet arrived, while ** on this side had already run out of ammunition and food; the soldiers dead, dead, wounded, wounded were unable to sustain this situation.

Seeing Huang'an about to fall, the regiment commander selected twenty-eight death warriors from the remaining soldiers, divided into four groups: southeast, southwest, northeast, northwest—preparing to attack the enemy division at midnight.

The fate of these soldiers is obvious: they will not return. Everyone's will and purpose are the same: to sacrifice their lives to protect their homeland behind them and deliver a fierce blow to the enemy's heart.

The father of the old madman, Yuan Zheng, was among these death warriors, but no one expected it. When our soldiers sneaked into the enemy position, due to a comrade's carelessness, the hiding places of two groups were exposed.

Even more unexpected was that at this moment Yuan Zheng actually deserted the battlefield, leading his six subordinates to flee outward from the enemy's center, leaving the danger to the other three groups and abandoning his comrades-in-arms.

"Coward, truly a damn coward! This Yuan Zheng, truly a damn bastard!" Pangzi was filled with righteous indignation, also feeling great contempt for the old madman's father.

"What happened later, what became of this beast?" Pangzi stared at the aunt and pressed for an answer.

The aunt continued: "The fleeing Yuan Zheng was soon captured by the regiment commander's soldiers. It is said that his wife was raped by the village landlord, and his wife and mother jumped into a well. He could not rest easy about his ten-year-old only son, fearing that if he died the child would have no one to care for him, and also wanting to avenge his dead mother, that's why he became a deserter."

After taking a puff of dry tobacco, the aunt slowly recalled: "The regiment commander also did not deal with these deserters according to military law. Being a good person, he could not bear to harm his brothers. He gave each a knife and let them fend for themselves."

Later, Huang'an fell not long after; the regiment commander led the entire regiment's soldiers in brave combat to the end, the whole regiment died heroically. As for Yuan Zheng and the six deserters, they also vanished. Perhaps they clung to life, abandoned their son, and hid in a corner.

"This regiment commander is a kind-hearted person. This Yuan Zheng, although it's unavoidable, is indeed excessive!" After hearing the whole story, I couldn't help but sigh.

"But, even if the father does wrong again and again, behaves shamefully again and again, the mistakes he commits have nothing to do with his own children!"

Just as I finished speaking, Pangzi covered my mouth with one hand, and, smiling ambiguously at the auntie who had been stirred up by the words, he said muffledly: "My brother is saying that Yuan Zheng deserves to die, the regiment commander is a kind-hearted person, and those children killed by the Japanese devils are also quite pitiful."

Pangzi gave me a look, indicating I shouldn't say anything more.

Obviously, such words would not get through to the auntie. For decades, her understanding has been like this; if you suddenly dare to blame her and say she's wrong, not to mention that it might not be able to uproot this deep-rooted notion, it would instead provoke her resentment.

Human nature is like this: if a family has a bad person, the whole family is not good; if a pot of porridge has a rat dropping, the whole pot of porridge becomes bad porridge.

Perhaps fathers would point to the old madman and tell their children to stay away from the descendant of that deserter, a good-for-nothing. Then the naive children would remember their fathers' words, considering the madman to be the offspring of a deserter, a good-for-nothing.

Day after day of contempt, it's easy to imagine how much pressure this old madman has endured from childhood to adulthood. Going mad is therefore not surprising.

At that moment, the old madman sitting in front of the dilapidated house suddenly burst into tears, looking up to the sky and wailing: "Dad, rest in peace now, don't hurt anyone anymore. Go in peace..."

After crying, the old madman collapsed at the doorway and fell into a deep sleep.