Once everyone's identity had been assigned, the village chief glanced at the Plum Blossom-brand watch on his wrist and said, "It's eight thirty now. You can wander around the village this morning. At noon, each of you will go to your assigned household for lunch."
Ding Shi asked, "Chief, am I eating at your house?"
The village chief nodded. "My daughter-in-law is a wonderful cook."
The villagers left first, dispersing. The players, still unfamiliar with one another, exchanged a few polite words and then went their separate ways into the village.
Taoyuan Village was shaped roughly like a crescent moon, with a small stream running through the middle. The villagers lived along the stream, with a two-meter-wide dirt path on each bank. This area was the core of the village. Another thirty percent of the villagers were scattered around the outskirts. The straight-line distance between the southernmost and northernmost villagers was over four kilometers—seven kilometers by road, two kilometers of which was hilly mountain path.
At the center of the village were a barbershop, a bicycle pump-and-repair shop, an eatery, the elementary school, the village office, a branch of the supply and marketing cooperative, and the village chief's house. Near the chief's house was the elementary school, and between the school and his house stood the library.
Ding Shi was astonished. The library was small, but in this era, villages with a library were exceedingly rare. It was a single-story building with one bookshelf against the wall. Only after browsing the catalog did Ding Shi realize that the library was provided specially by the system.
Ding Shi pulled out Taoyuan Village Chronicles: The Tale of San Niang and sat down on a bench to leaf through it. The book recorded various people and events connected with Taoyuan Village, San Niang, and the sacrifice.
In the early years of the Republic of China, a man-eating giant snake appeared in Taoyuan Village. At first it ate only livestock; later it began swallowing people alive. The people initially revered and worshipped it, but in the end they fought it to the death. At the village chief's pleading, the county militia sent a twenty-man rifle squad. They found the giant snake's lair and lay in ambush there, but the bullets could not penetrate its hide at all. Instead, two squad members were dragged into the snake pit. Hence the talk of a snake demon.
A Taoist came, and the Taoist died. A monk came, and the monk died. They tried fire, poison, quicklime—every method—but the people of Taoyuan Village could never get rid of the snake demon. As for realgar? Snakes were not actually very afraid of it; people said it worked even worse than garlic.
In the village lived a girl named San Niang, sixteen years old. She and a young man from the county town fell in love and became engaged. Little did anyone expect that when the groom's party came to fetch the bride, the procession was attacked by the giant snake, and the bridegroom was swallowed whole.
When San Niang heard the terrible news, she wept tears of blood. Just then, a beggar passing through Taoyuan Village begged a bowl of water at San Niang's home. Hearing her story, he gave her a packet of medicinal powder before leaving.
That night, San Niang put on her bridal clothes, took the powder, crawled into the snake pit, and entered the giant snake's lair, where she buried herself in a small hole.
Seven days later, drawing on the moonlight, San Niang transformed into a zombie. She burst out of the hole and launched a bloody battle against the giant snake. The snake could not constrict her to death, and her sharp claws could not pierce its body. The two fought for a day and a night, alerting the elders and villagers of Taoyuan. When everyone came with torches to look, they saw the giant snake's head severed from its body—San Niang had bitten clean through its vital spot. Her bridal clothes had been reduced to strips of cloth, and she lay on the ground, silent and still.
Grateful for what San Niang had done, everyone laid her out and placed her in a coffin. Unexpectedly, several days later, San Niang burst out of the ground and killed quite a few poultry. When everyone was at their wits' end, the dead Taoist's master arrived in Taoyuan Village, having come in search of him. This Taoist had profound powers. He sealed San Niang inside the coffin, then sent a memorial to the Heavenly Court, petitioning that San Niang be appointed the local Earth God. He also had the San Niang Temple built so that incense offerings could accumulate for her, thus settling the matter.
After this ordeal, the Taoist's primordial spirit was gravely wounded, so he settled on the mountain. Such was the origin of Baiyun Temple on Taoyuan Mountain.
In short, it was the story of San Niang transforming into a zombie to seek revenge.
To commemorate San Niang and to appease her, the Taoist left behind the rites of sacrifice. The divine maiden was the key to dissolving San Niang's resentment. According to the Taoist, during the six days when the divine maiden stood in for San Niang in marriage, San Niang's spirit would remain beside her, slowly dissolving the malevolent energy in San Niang's spirit. After a hundred years, San Niang would truly become the local Earth God, blessing Taoyuan Village with favorable weather and a flourishing population.
Even in the hardest of times, Taoyuan Village continued to perform the sacrificial rites in secret.
Ding Shi closed the book, unsure how to judge the story. It was not a traditional tale of grievance and revenge, because after ridding the village of one menace, San Niang became a menace herself. It had no educational value either; there was nothing worth learning from it and nothing worthy of admiration.
He put the book back, and another book caught his attention—On Ghosts. He was just about to pull it out when a commotion arose outside. He went out and saw Li Si blocked on the road by several villagers.
Li Si was holding a firewood chopping knife. Three villagers held carrying poles and hoes. The two sides faced off, and villagers eager for a show came crowding over.
There was a two-meter drop. Ding Shi crouched at the edge of the stone platform and looked down. Li Si was growing more and more flustered, while the villagers merely blocked his way and did not lay a hand on him. Their expressions, however, were strange—as if afraid, as if angry.
An older woman grabbed a handful of melon seeds and crouched beside Ding Shi, eagerly pricking up her ears as though trying to hear what they were arguing about. Seeing Ding Shi glance at her, she put a handful of seeds in his palm. "Roasted them myself. They're good."
So Ding Shi began cracking seeds too. When Sun Qi and the others arrived at the noise, they saw several villagers blocking Li Si and refusing to let him leave, while Ding Shi crouched up above enjoying the show.
Sun Qi crouched beside Ding Shi, looked down, and asked, "What's going on?"
"No idea," Ding Shi said, and gave Sun Qi half his handful of seeds.
Before long, a whole row of people were crouched along the top of the platform, several of the players among them.
Down below, the parties involved were not grappling or quarreling. There was only one line: "No leaving. Wait until the village chief gets here."
After quite a while, the village chief arrived at the scene of the incident, leaning on his cane with one hand and struggling with great effort. He looked up, spotted Ding Shi, and pointed. "Little Ding, come down."
Ding Shi spat out a melon-seed husk. "Chief, I'm not on duty yet."
"You can start now," the chief said.
Task issued: As the village chief's assistant, you must solve his problems and follow his instructions. Village chief's satisfaction: 0.
First task: Dispute.
Ding Shi went down the side steps to the road and attended to the chief. The chief nodded in satisfaction and looked at the two parties. "What's going on? A Cai, you tell me."
A Cai was a young man of about thirty. He hemmed and hawed, and the chief's temper flared. He raised his cane to strike, and A Cai stepped back to dodge. Ding Shi immediately snatched the cane, stepped forward, and landed two blows on A Cai's back and lower back. Then he respectfully pressed the cane back into the chief's hand. "Chief, how could I let you trouble yourself with this?"
The onlookers marveled: "What a bootlicker."
Village chief's satisfaction: 10.
As a man of the jianghu and an undercover henchman, Ding Shi had done plenty of lackey work. The whole point of a dog borrowing its master's power was that the master wanted the dog to do the biting. But a boss, constrained by his position, could not easily lower himself to strike, so an underling naturally had to watch for the right cue.
Was it shameful? Yes, but Ding Shi did not know these people anyway, and what served his interests was the village chief's satisfaction. There was a saying in the jianghu: Anyone with no interests tied to yours—you need not treat them as human.
Chapter 5