Chapter 10: Desolate Mountain, Mass Graves, Chicken-Feather Inn

The drumbeat sounded, and a few minutes later the doors within the courtyard were pushed open one by one. Following that the master’s wife came out of the main room in her undergarments, and the young master with his maidservant came out from the left wing room.

The gardener, bare-chested, and the master’s concubine wearing only a bellyband came out from behind the rockery in the back garden. The eldest young mistress emerged from her boudoir wearing white undergarments.

Next came the cook, the coachman, and the household servants and groundsmen, all stepping out of their rooms with dull expressions as if sleepwalking. Seeing this, Li Chaosheng asked the old temple keeper, “Brother Zhu, what is this ghost-faced human-skin drum? Where does it come from, and why is it so powerful?”

The old temple keeper answered softly, “The ghost-faced human-skin drum is a magical instrument from a heterodox branch among the corpse-drivers of Xiangxi. It is made using century-old ghost bones and the skin of a silver-tongued person, fashioned by incantation. It has the power to bewilder and bewitch people’s minds, so it’s a common implement among the heterodox corpse-driving sect.”

“Oh, I see. By the way, do these corpse-drivers have different factions?” Li Chaosheng asked out of curiosity.

The old temple keeper replied, “They weren’t divided before, but as the corpse-driving line declined, some enterprising folk began to adopt other rogue arts to make a living. Thus in the jianghu those who kept strictly to the Xiangxi corpse-driving rules are called the Pure School, while those who no longer used purely Xiangxi corpse-driving techniques are called the Heterodox School. The Heterodox are the main target of the authorities because they’re most adept at committing crimes.”

As the old temple keeper explained, the straw-hatted man in the courtyard had already seen the gathered crowd. He strolled slowly toward them without glancing at the male servants, instead staring straight at the women. First he looked at the master’s wife, the main madam of the house. The straw-hatted man only glanced and shook his head. “Old and faded, shriveled and tasteless.”

He then stepped toward the concubine standing with the gardener, who was wearing only a bellyband. He reached out to feel her bosom, sighed, and said, “They are big, but not in proportion, a withered blossom, cheap goods.”

A few more steps brought him to the maid who attended the young master. He appraised her up and down. “Simple and natural. Despite attending to an animal all day, she still retains maidenhood. That’s rare indeed. You, come out.”

Tap-tap~

The maid stepped forward two paces.

“Fall in!”

At the next command, the maid automatically fell in behind the first two women, forming a line. The straw-hatted man then came before the young mistress, propped his hand on his chin and said, “Her body is like a slender willow, delicate as a flower, skin like congealed fat, rivaling beautiful jade blossoms. Not bad, not bad, indeed the picture of a refined little lady.”

After speaking he touched her bosom and nodded, saying, “Fills the hand nicely—acceptable.”

“Step forward.”

The straw-hatted man said so, and the young mistress stepped forward. At the next command to fall in she took her place on her own.

The straw-hatted man then scanned the courtyard. There were no more to choose, so he rattled the drum and said, “Return!”

At that word, everyone returned by the same route: the master’s wife to her room, the gardener and concubine behind the rockery, the cook back to the stove—familial harmony restored. Only the young master cried a thousand tears. The maid had accompanied him out, but he came back to his room alone, to bear a lonely long night by himself. How desolate, how desolate~

“Brother Zhu, do we act now?”

Li Chaosheng, seeing all this, understood what was going on now: wasn’t this a blatant human-trafficking operation? And using the most terrifying bewitching abduction method no less. Imagine sleeping peacefully at home and waking up in the hands of traffickers, your life and liberty not safe. How terrifying!

“Not yet. In recent days many people have gone missing in the surrounding counties. We need to follow the clues, find his lair, and wipe them out in one sweep!”

“Just the two of us?” Li Chaosheng pointed at the old temple keeper.

The old man waved his hand, “We have help, but we’ll claim half the credit!”

“Understood.”

Li Chaosheng nodded and the two of them silently followed the straw-hatted man. As he crossed the threshold the big gate slowly closed behind them. The gatekeeper had been diligent: he welcomed them in, so he had to send them back out too. Full service.

The straw-hatted man continued on with the four women.

They strolled slowly to the east gate of the county town, which was already closed. In this era there was a curfew prohibiting walking the streets at night. Great Gan law stipulated that in cities under its rule, at the first watch three blows were struck on the dusk drum atop the gate tower to signal the start of curfew. Anyone without cause found on the streets during this time committed the crime of violating the night curfew. As the old-storyteller Guo says in his tales and other ancient stories, when you “violate the night,” the penalty is forty lashes by law. Generally, however, if one is attending a sickness, childbirth, or funeral, any one of the “three great matters”, one may be given special permission. Just tell the night patrollers and they would usually let you pass.

The dusk drum at the first watch started the curfew. And when did the curfew end? The written rule said at the fifth watch, three strikes of the morning bell on the gate tower signaled the beginning of the day and people could go out. The fifth watch, three strikes corresponded to 3:45 a.m.

It was about half past eleven at night now, when all was silent and everyone could sleep. The straw-hatted man and his four beauties arrived at the gate tower. The soldier on duty guarding the gate was exhausted, nodding off at the table beneath the shelter.

The straw-hatted man took out the ghost-faced human-skin drum, and without hesitation shook it a few times. The bewitching sound filled the ears, and the half-dazed night guard suddenly rose in a trance-like state. He then staggered to the gate, unhooked the latch, and the straw-hatted man and his four women swaggered out of the county town.

How brazen, how openly blatant, almost as if this were his own home. The old temple keeper’s face darkened. Saying nothing, he led Li Chaosheng out of the county and followed the straw-hatted man into the distance. After three or four miles they entered a wasteland of hills. Beyond the barren hills lay a scatter of chaotic graves. In those days such messy graveyards and orphaned children’s nests almost encircled the city.

They passed through the chaotic graveyard and walked over two more miles before finally seeing a building: a dilapidated brick-and-tile house. Beside it hung a pole with a tattered sign. On it, crookedly painted, were three characters: Chicken-Feather Inn!

“Chicken-Feather Inn.”

Li Chaosheng frowned slightly, searching his memory to confirm the information. A chicken-feather inn was the worst sort of lodging in that era, worse than a stagecoach inn’s common dormitory. It generally housed beggars, vagrants, itinerant drifters, and wanted men—a motley mixture.

But why was it called a chicken-feather inn?

Because the people who stayed there were either terribly poor or they thought it was more advisable to look poor rather than become a target of thieves. They lived in abject misery and couldn’t pay the innkeeper even a few scraps. So the owner didn’t provide bedding. In the room there was a large platform with two wooden boards stacked on top, and the boards were covered in chicken feathers. The feathers were warm and soft and comfortable to cover oneself with. One of the boards was hung from the beams by a rope.

When it was time to sleep, people were arranged on the platform. The innkeeper would come and lower the board by its rope, sandwiching the person between the two layers of chicken feathers. Cozy and warm, they slept the night through, which was better than freezing outdoors. Hence the name Chicken-Feather Inn.

“You’re finally here, everyone’s been waiting!”

The straw-hatted man arrived and, at the door, was met by someone who came up to greet him. The man had a face full of coarse flesh, wore rough clothing, had a large belly, and his face was covered in pockmarks. Big pockmarks nested with smaller ones, and those with even tinier pits. Inside one pit was a black dot with a single hair protruding. The concentric circles of pockmarks were nauseating to behold.

“Hm, a little trouble came up and we’re a bit late,” said the straw-hatted man.

The pockmarked man stepped aside. “No matter, as long as the goods are here, that’s good enough. Fifth Master, please come inside.”