Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio 07

Lin Lai glanced sidelong at the sly fox, “Weren’t you planning to have a candlelit conversation with Master Dinghui?”

Ma Jiepu replied in earnest, “The venerable master was frightened today, so I won’t disturb his rest.”

Lin Lai corrected him, “That’s called ‘Buddha guides those with affinity.’”

After the light banter, Lin Lai fell silent. After a while, she tapped her foot on the ground and said, “That’s how it is. I thought my return to this life was a soul borrowed into a corpse—a cuckoo occupying a magpie’s nest.” At this point, there was no sense in hiding anything from Ma Jiepu, and besides, she needed a confidant—a tree hollow to pour her heart into.

Ma Jiepu simply asked, “So you feel you owe your current parents? And if you truly were a cuckoo in a magpie’s nest, what then?”

“I’ve been filial to my parents for so many years—they are my parents, no matter what!” Lin Lai enunciated each word. If it were true, she would take this secret to her grave, never letting her father or mother know.

Luckily, it wasn’t true.

Lin Lai shuddered, “Ugh! That’s the most terrifying story I’ve ever heard.”

Seeing her reaction, Ma Jiepu refrained from speaking further about souls borrowed into bodies, so as not to unsettle her. Instead, he whispered, “Would you like to know the most terrifying story I’ve ever encountered?”

Lin Lai: “…No. Shut up. Go away.”

But she didn’t drive him away; instead, she poured out years of bottled-up words to Ma Jiepu.

Ma Jiepu listened patiently, feeling uplifted because Lin Lai had opened up to him.

However, after her catharsis, Lin Lai took up her brush and penned two talismans.

Golden strokes flew from the Diamond Sutra, forming the phrase “Keep lips sealed.”

Ma Jiepu: “…”

Lin Lai used one on him, then took the remaining talisman to Master Dinghui’s quarters, apologizing as she invoked it.

Master Dinghui: “…Amitabha.”

Having disturbed Master Dinghui once again, Lin Lai thought it best to leave. Before going, she patted Ma Jiepu’s shoulder like a brother, “Tree Hollow, see you next time.”

Seeing Ma Jiepu’s gloomy face, Lin Lai was secretly delighted, feeling she’d regained the upper hand. Then she mounted her horse, waved to Ma Jiepu, and left Anhe Temple with a flourish.

But as soon as the night wind blew, Lin Lai’s impulsive mood was swept away completely. She realized she’d blurted out her deepest secret to Ma Jiepu—something irrational, even though he could’ve guessed most of it even if she hadn’t said a word. And though the “Keep lips sealed” talisman meant her confession was as good as unsaid, him learning passively was entirely different from her telling him directly.

Still, his attitude remained unchanged as before, and Lin Lai appreciated this. Or perhaps it was precisely because she knew his attitude wouldn’t change that she naturally confided in him things she’d been unable to share with anyone for years.

·

·

The barrier in Lin Lai’s heart was gone, but how she would tell her parents remained an issue.

Yet before she could sort it out, her mother pulled her off to her maternal grandparents’ home to celebrate her grandmother’s birthday.

Lin Lai’s maternal family lived in Changqing County; her paternal grandfather’s home was elsewhere. Strangely, Lin Lai had never visited her grandfather’s house, and the family seldom mentioned it—when they did, it was always shrouded in secrecy.

Lin Lai didn’t press for answers.

As for the Xu family, it wasn’t exactly a proper official household, for the highest office their ancestors held was county bailiff. Yet over the years, the Xu family had produced many clerks, and many of Changqing County’s yamen runners had trained at the Xu family martial arts hall. The remaining martial artists often went to work at the Xu family’s escort agency or served as bodyguards for wealthy households. With such connections, the Xu family was a local power in Changqing County in their own right.

After the meal, guests departed or stayed to watch opera, chat, or listen to music. Lin Lai didn’t stay to face the enthusiastic greetings of numerous aunts. She took her little cousin Xu Yunchan, called her close friend Zhu Saiying, and crossed the flower gate and a covered corridor to reach the Six Arts Garden. There was a training ground for riding, archery, and martial arts, as well as a playing field for polo and chuiwan.

Chuiwan, ancient golf, was fashionable at all levels, as the Ball Treatise described: “On clear days…choose good friends in groups of three or five, at a scenic garden, and strike according to the rules.”

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And Zhu Saiying, the only daughter of an old staff master at the Xu martial arts hall, had inherited her father’s skills.

Lin Lai and she had become friends through friendly bouts—they’d often sparred in the past.

This time, they couldn’t compete in martial arts, but they could test who had the superior chuiwan skills.

It was tough on others; cousin Xu Yunchan played for a while before giving up to cheer from the sidelines.

Suddenly, a man’s voice called out from atop the wall.

Lin Lai looked up and saw a stranger staring intently their way.

Xu Yunchan gasped and quickly avoided him.

Lin Lai raised an eyebrow, turned sideways, and struck the ball. The little ball made of gall nut seemed to sprout eyes, flying straight for the stranger and hitting his eye socket, knocking him off the wall.

Moments later, her fourth cousin Xu Huaixin came over, looking disgruntled. He explained that he’d been with his third brother Xu Huaizhong, accompanying the little son of Captain Zhao, Zhao Dingfeng, around. Unexpectedly, Zhao Dingfeng acted like a runaway horse, climbing the wall before they could stop him.

Lin Lai apologized, “Ah, I saw two bright holes and couldn’t help but aim the ball at them. Didn’t expect to hit his eye socket by mistake. His eyeball didn’t fall out, did it?”

Xu Huaixin, suppressing laughter, waved his hands, “No, not at all. Just a bruise around the eye.”

“Mmhmm.” Lin Lai knew her own strength well—she was just saying it for effect. She turned to comfort her cousin, making her laugh, and then said to Zhu Saiying, who also hadn’t had her fill, “Come to my house another day, let’s play to our hearts’ content. You can see if my swordsmanship has improved.”

Zhu Saiying agreed readily.

Zhu Saiying liked visiting Lin Lai, finding her straightforward and easy to get along with. Still, she’d always wondered: as the daughter of a wealthy family, how could Lin Lai diligently practice swordsmanship year after year without slackening?

Zhu herself trained daily, never daring to slack, because it was her family’s tradition and her livelihood. But what motivated Miss Lin?

Later, Lin Lai returned home, and while chatting with her mother, her mother suddenly remarked, “I guessed right—the Cao family accepted this marriage unwillingly, probably swallowing their loss in silence.”

Lin Lai realized she meant Cao Gongzi and Miss Yang, and asked curiously, “For example?”

Madam Xu replied, “No need for you to know.”

Lin Lai: “…”

Madam Xu, sensing her daughter’s resentment, added, “It’s not terribly disgraceful; after all, both families have reputations to maintain. Unlike your grandfather’s family, rotten to the core.”

Lin Lai’s eyes widened, “My grandfather’s family? Now I’m curious. Mother, tell me about them.”

“Your grandfather’s family? Their estate is vast—he has ten sons, maybe more,” Madam Xu’s tone turned bitter, “But who knows how many are truly his?”

Lin Lai: “Oh, oh.”

Madam Xu realized she’d spoken out of turn and scolded, “You should pretend you never heard such things, yet you still exclaim.”

Lin Lai quickly feigned innocence, acting as if she knew nothing of the ‘Green Forest,’ and changed the subject, “But mother, why speak of grandfather’s family now? You and father never mention them.”

Madam Xu reiterated her principle, then casually said, “It’s nothing. We’re going back to Jinhua County this year to honor our ancestors.” But Lin Lai detected a deep disdain for her grandfather’s side beneath her mother’s casual words.

Thinking further, if her grandfather’s family was so large, why was her father rooted in Changqing County? Perhaps he’d been pushed out by his brothers, or worse. Otherwise, how could there be no contact for so many years? Her family was very small—her father lived only with her mother (though people had sent him singers, prostitutes, even widows, he’d never taken them).

In an era where polygamy was normal, her father’s lack of concubines was seen as abnormal, subject to ridicule, and her mother labeled as jealous or unvirtuous.

Looking back, perhaps her father had suffered, and her grandmother—whom she’d never met—was likely a casualty of household strife, prompting her father to ensure the tragedy didn’t repeat for his wife and children.

The more Lin Lai thought, the more convinced she became, even labeling her unseen grandfather ‘Jinhua County’s Ximen Qing,’ without sparing a thought for the county’s name.

·

Today, Master Lin went to celebrate his mother-in-law’s birthday, drinking and entertaining guests, and returned late with his eldest son, Lin Bingzhang. Lin Bingzhang paid respects to Madam Xu and then went to his own courtyard to find his wife.

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Master Lin glanced around and saw a lotus flower he hadn’t noticed before, beautifully arranged, and asked, “Did you place this, madam?”

Madam Xu replied, “No, it was sent by Lu’er, specifically for you as her father.”

Master Lin was puzzled, “Why would Lu’er send me flowers for no reason?”

Madam Xu frowned, “I mentioned our ancestral home in Jinhua County to her today—who knows what she imagined, and then she sent this lotus.”

Master Lin paused, then laughed heartily, “Lu’er means I remain pure despite muddy surroundings. She truly understands me—my own daughter!”

Madam Xu saw he had no reservations about the gesture and smiled, then resumed her usual concern, “Today, my second sister-in-law hinted at matchmaking Bao Lu and Huaixin. You know, her grandmother and aunts adore her, she and Xin-ge grew up together, marrying would keep it in the family. Yet I understand, being a niece and a daughter-in-law aren’t the same, and Lu’er’s temperament—”

“Our girl is wonderful.” Master Lin caught his wife’s expression and quickly amended, “I mean, I’ve always been concerned about her future. Don’t worry, madam. Remember, haste makes waste.”

Madam Xu was exasperated, “Don’t give me those empty platitudes.”

Master Lin: “Yes, yes.”

He turned again to the lotus his daughter sent, his expression momentarily pensive.

·

As the saying goes, “What’s constantly remembered will always echo.” The next day, Captain Zhao’s wife sent an invitation, asking Madam Xu and her daughter to admire flowers at their home.

Madam Xu accepted and took Lin Lai, only to find they were being courted for marriage—the other party was their youngest son, Zhao Dingfeng.

Yes, the very same flirtatious young man whom Lin Lai had struck in the eye with a ball.

That blow had left him a one-eyed panda, yet it made his heart race, and he insisted on marrying Lin Lai.

Lin Lai: “Ha?”

Is he mad? Masochistic? He certainly lacked self-awareness, imagining his previous appearance was dazzling.

Even if she took a thousand steps back, Lin Lai felt she and Zhao Dingfeng had utterly incompatible worldviews. In this world, she feared only her own family shared her views, but in truth, her family often didn’t align with societal norms.

Lin Lai understood this well, but she refused to compromise. She couldn’t accept “Since you’re here, adapt to it,” for that would be shoehorning herself into an ill-fitting mold—a painful process she would never endure.

Wait a moment, these words sounded strangely familiar.

In such a situation, Lin Lai encountered Ma Jiepu again, who had once shared similar thoughts.

This time, Ma Jiepu took her to Qingyun County, also under Laizhou’s jurisdiction. Outside a certain residence, he led her to peer through the wall at a study room—the layered courtyards seemed transparent, forming a circular view, so Lin Lai felt as if she were watching a stage play from outside.

Perplexed, she “looked” at the corner of the wall and saw a perfectly ordinary father and son inside, drinking and chatting in harmony.

Lin Lai: “?”

Ma Jiepu explained, “It seems mundane, right? But you don’t know—this pair, because of unresolved past, retain memories from three previous lives.”

Lin Lai understood at once; he was using this as a metaphor to guide her, suggesting her reincarnation in the Lin family was predestined. Yet she felt her situation was not comparable to theirs. Still—“What was their past?”

Ma Jiepu drew out his answer, “That’s a long story.”

Lin Lai replied coldly, “Please make it short.”

Ma Jiepu smiled and succinctly recounted the grievances and karmic ties between the father and son.

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