In the thirteenth year of the Jingyin era, temperatures began to rise in late spring. More than a dozen villages under Guluo Town were suffering from drought, with no rain in sight. The villagers worried that rainfall would be scarce that year, perhaps even that there would be a severe drought, so they hung curtains and set out cups while the village head hurriedly invited a Daoist priest to perform rites for rain, hoping for an omen of abundant rainfall.
Unlike the clear skies over the town and villages, the weather in the mountains was always unpredictable. Just the night before, a heavy rain had fallen. Fierce winds had shaken leaves and branches loose until they carpeted the ground, while the downpour swelled the streams into raging beasts. The mountain air was as cold as an icehouse.
Ordinarily, anyone planning to spend the night on a mountain would, if not prepare for every possibility, at least bring something to ward off the cold. Yet in a half-abandoned hunter’s hut on Yaluo Mountain, a young man lay beneath a winter quilt that had gone damp and stiff as a stone slab. The old sackcloth cover had been stuffed with the willow catkins and dry grass poor families could obtain, and it offered little warmth.
It was what a poor household could manage for cold weather, but it was nowhere near enough against the chill of the mountains.
The young man’s breaths gradually grew farther apart. The red rash covering him only worsened, and when the first rooster crowed, his head lolled to one side. He was gone.
By the time the sun hung in the sky and mountain mist rose in steaming curls, the man inside the hut, who by all rights should have been turning stiff, slowly lifted his eyelids. His fingers curled and straightened. A quarter of an hour later, he actually braced himself against the wall and sat up.
Had anyone witnessed such an eerie sight, they would surely have rushed off to summon a Daoist priest to subdue him.
He Yi, who had only just awakened, was equally bewildered. By all logic, one moment ago he had still been inside a small car, thrown around by centrifugal force until his stomach churned. The window had shattered, his left temple had slammed hard into the noise barrier beside the highway, and everything had gone black. Then he opened his eyes again to find a roof of bundled thatch above him.
What on earth was going on…?
Before he could sort through the situation, scenes from memories that did not belong to him abruptly forced themselves into his mind. His already muddled head felt ready to split apart. When he finally came back to himself, the images had finished playing, rather like high school physics class when he had bent down to pick up a pen, looked back at the blackboard, and discovered that everything written there had become completely incomprehensible.
He had never seen that string of memories before, and they had flashed past in only the roughest fragments, yet they carried such a powerful sense of familiarity that for a time he could not even be certain they truly did not belong to him.
Only after spending most of the day sorting through them did He Yi recover his sense of self from the confusion of whether he was the nearly thirty-year-old architect of the twenty-first century or the honest farmer from ancient Chongzi Village who had only just turned eighteen. At last, he accepted the fact that he had transmigrated into this world.
The dynasty was called Qian, and the reign era was Jingyin. Drawing on high school history he had more or less forgotten entirely, he was fairly sure this was neither the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period nor some obscure historical dynasty he had simply failed to remember.
The hunter’s hut he was in had originally been built by an old hunter from Chongzi Village. After the hunter died, no descendants took up his trade, and the thatched mud-brick house had been left to fall into disrepair.
Yaluo Mountain was not a single peak but a continuous mountain range. Tigers and black bears were said to roam deeper inside. The people of Chongzi Village generally did not venture far in, gathering wild fruit and vegetables only around the outskirts. Even the hunters mostly set traps and hunted game within about five kilometers of this hut, rarely going any farther.
As for why this body had ended up lying alone in the hut, that story began several days earlier.
The original owner of the body had shared his name, He Yi. He was a farmer from Chongzi Village who lived with A’ma, the two depending on each other for survival. Although they still lived with his eldest uncle’s family, he lived more like a cheap hired hand for that household.
Elio’s Notes: The author explicitly clarifies that A’ma refers to He Yi’s grandmother in this story.
Recently, there had been repeated news from town of people developing fevers and rashes. Some said they had eaten something unclean; others went so far as to suspect an epidemic. People from the surrounding countryside stopped going into town unless necessary, but He Yi’s eldest uncle’s second son, He Jie, happened to be craving strong liquor and sent the original He Yi to buy two jugs from Chen’s shop.
As luck would have it, several people died in town that very day. Paper money was scattered all over the streets for the dead, each of whom had been covered in red rashes with blackened tongue coating. After that, talk of an epidemic could no longer be suppressed and spread everywhere.
The original He Yi panicked. In his confusion, he stepped into an alley flooded with sewage and even slipped and fell. The stench rushed straight into his nose and nearly knocked him unconscious. He forgot all about buying the liquor, turned around, and hurried back to Chongzi Village.
He returned without the liquor, stinking from head to toe, with red spots breaking out over his exposed arms and calves. He Jie wanted to beat him, but found the idea of dirtying his own hands disgusting, so he went to complain to his mother instead. The original He Yi was punished by being denied dinner that night.
That evening, several men returned to the village saying the town had already been sealed off. They told everyone about the epidemic there and warned anyone who had recently visited town to watch for fever and red rashes. They would speak with the village head and decide what should be done with such people.
He Jie liked wandering around after he had eaten his fill. The moment he heard the news, he remembered the conspicuous red bumps on He Yi’s hands and feet, which had not been there when He Yi left that morning.
He stormed home and shouted, “He Yi, you filthy thing! Get up the mountain right now and get as far away as you can! If someone’s going to die, you can die by yourself. Don’t drag us down with you!”
He Yi’s eldest uncle and aunt were sitting in the main room, along with his younger paternal aunt, who had dropped by to visit. He Jie’s outburst startled them all, and they hurried over to ask what had happened.
He Jie told them what he had heard at the village entrance. His eldest uncle and aunt were frightened of being infected too and did not dare call He Yi out, so they urged A’ma, who had been resting in the inner room, to come out instead.
A’ma was already over sixty. How could she possibly let her young grandson be thrown onto the mountain to fend for himself? She immediately flew into a rage, beating her chest as she cried, “You’re trying to kill Yi’er! You’re trying to kill the both of us, grandmother and grandson!”
His eldest aunt had never been afraid of her mother-in-law and seemed uncomfortable if she went a day without saying something cutting. She slapped the table and pressed her case aggressively. “Is our Jie’er not your grandson too? Jie’er is about to become a yamen runner in town. He’s the one with real prospects! If that jinx gets him sick, how is he supposed to report for duty? Everything will be ruined! And this illness kills people. His life matters, so does that mean our whole family should be buried with that boy?! What a sin!”
A’ma stared at her daughter-in-law’s tantrum. The woman was only a step away from pointing at her and accusing her of favoring her younger grandson. If this family had not always treated He Yi so heartlessly, perhaps A’ma would not have pitied him so much. The boy might be slow and dull, but he was filial. Whenever he had anything good, he always thought of her first. Remembering that made her heart ache with tenderness.
The two women argued for a while, neither able to convince the other. Eldest Aunt thought her mother-in-law’s protection of He Yi meant she wanted the rest of them dead. A’ma thought her eldest son and daughter-in-law were so heartless they were trying to drive both her and He Yi to their deaths.
The longer they argued, the uglier their words became. Fortunately the door had been shut, or any passerby who heard them would have clicked their tongue in disbelief.
Seeing that her mother-in-law simply would not see reason, Eldest Aunt finally brought out her trump card and sneered, “Aren’t you afraid we’ll tell everyone about that little romantic scandal of yours from back then? Let’s see who ends up unable to stay in this village.” It certainly would not be them who suffered. Once their son became a yamen runner in town, the whole family would move there. They would not have to remain in this impoverished village, so what did she care about reputation? The ignorant villagers would be too busy currying favor with her once that happened. She did not believe any of them would dare wag their tongues.
The words emptied A’ma’s mind in an instant. She stared at her daughter-in-law in disbelief, unable to imagine such venom coming from that perfectly proper little mouth. His younger paternal aunt, forgotten in a corner, was equally stunned by her sister-in-law’s astonishing words, her eyes widening like brass bells.
Eldest Uncle, who stood beside his wife, had not said a word throughout, but his attitude was plain enough. His lowered eyes held nothing but disgust and impatience.
“Fine… fine. I’ll take Yi’er up the mountain.” A’ma finally gave in, all the light fading from her eyes.
His younger paternal aunt could not bear it and asked why they could not at least let He Yi stay in the woodshed, where he would be easier to care for. Before she could finish, Eldest Aunt, already worked into a fury, tore into her without the slightest regard for her dignity. Hurt, the younger woman twisted her handkerchief between her fingers, wiped her tears, and ran home.
The original He Yi had secretly watched the entire argument from the west room. He had stayed hidden because he was afraid he really might pass the illness to them. Pitifully, even with his fever clouding his mind, he was still worrying about the family.
Afterward, A’ma packed a few things, took a handcart and a carrying basket, and went up the mountain with him. The original He Yi deliberately kept his distance from her at first, but eventually he could no longer hold out and collapsed unconscious. A’ma was badly frightened. With great effort, she dragged her grandson onto the handcart, then hauled it up to the mountain hut one uneven step at a time.
When the body woke again, the person inside it had already changed.
Even someone as hard-hearted as He Yi could not help letting out a long sigh over what had happened to the original owner and A’ma.
Before long, he gradually adjusted to the body, and all its discomfort came flooding back. Dense red rashes covered not only his hands and feet but his back as well. They itched, and the larger ones hurt when touched. His temple also throbbed faintly. He Yi felt his forehead and found it alarmingly hot, though he could not tell whether that was because his hand was too cold or…
He looked around the hunter’s hut. There was only an earthen bed covered with dry grass, a low stool beside it, and two bamboo tubes resting on the stool. He laboriously shifted closer and picked them up to inspect them. One held a multigrain steamed bun; the other contained clear water.
He had no idea how long this body had been unconscious, but his stomach was cramping violently. He Yi was in no position to be picky, so he picked up the bun and bit into it, nearly cracking a tooth. It was as hard as a stone and who knew how many days old. With no other choice, he soaked it in water to soften it before forcing it down. Before long, there was finally something in his stomach and the spasms eased a little.
He had arrived in such a backward place while carrying an illness that might or might not be an epidemic. He was alive, but somehow not entirely alive. He Yi thought this with a bitter smile.
Afterward he got off the bed and slowly made a circuit of the hut with one hand on the wall. Near the door, he unexpectedly found a motionless gray rabbit. The fur at the back of its neck had clumped together with a rusty-colored stain, though he could not tell whether it was a wound or something that had rubbed onto it.
He Yi frowned, wondering who had thrown a rabbit in here.
Wild rabbits were not easy to catch, and their burrows were difficult to find. It could hardly have come from A’ma. Years of overwork had left the old woman with all sorts of ailments. There was no way she could move quickly enough to catch a rabbit, much less handle a bow and arrow.
He Yi crouched and touched the rabbit, discovering that it was already dead. A dead rabbit appearing in the hut out of nowhere felt strange no matter how he looked at it, so he immediately backed away, wanting some distance from the carcass. For a moment he forgot how weak his present body was. The sudden movement sent his vision black, and he toppled onto the bed unconscious.
And so he completely missed the fluffy, spotted tail that flashed past outside the window, curling into the shape of a question mark.