Chapter 17: The Voice Beyond the Door

We left Sansong Temple, and as we departed, I noticed Xuan Yi giving us a last glance. The four of us sat beneath the great tree outside the temple for the remainder of the evening. Chen Fan asked me whether the mountain priests truly possessed Taoist powers. He reasoned that the fire which broke out inside the Forbidden Gate had been extinguished so quickly—if the old master had no real cultivation, it would have been impossible for him to quell the flames and stop them from spreading all by himself.

I frowned, pondering Chen Fan’s question. He saw that I did not answer and did not press further.

The devotees who had come to the mountain left one by one before nightfall. From a distance, the winding paths were crowded with moving heads.

The temple had no electricity, relying on oil lamps and lanterns—such places were rare in this age. At first, the gates of Sansong Temple remained open, and even as darkness descended, we could still see the red glow from within. Around nine o’clock, a priest finally came to close the doors.

Moments after the gates shut, every light within the temple was extinguished. The moon, shrouded by clouds, left the mountain in utter darkness. With no lights, Sansong Temple was swallowed by the night, its outline barely discernible—even to the naked eye, it seemed to vanish into thin air.

Chen Fan remarked that the temple suddenly became eerie. I told the three to wait here; I would go in alone. Luo Feng’s two men were uneasy, but I had already made up my mind, and they could not object. I preferred to act alone—the three of them were too restless, and the more people involved, the greater the chance for trouble.

The reason we waited all afternoon was, of course, to investigate the Forbidden Gate. Xuan Yi had already seen through our purpose for coming to the mountain, which only strengthened my resolve to thoroughly investigate this temple with its legendary reputation. The mountain was cold; the chill wind seemed to come from every direction, unsettling me.

To avoid detection, I did not use any light source. The darkness was nearly absolute—I crept cautiously to the side of Sansong Temple and climbed over the wall. As soon as I landed, my foot slipped; I steadied myself against the wall, nearly falling. It felt as though I had stepped in mud. Instinctively, I crouched down and pinched the earth between my fingers—it was indeed muddy.

During the day, I had seen no mud anywhere within the temple, which was meticulously maintained. The darkness made it impossible to see clearly; not wanting to waste time, I quickly stood and carefully stepped over the mud, heading toward the Forbidden Gate. At that moment, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, faintly illuminating my path.

The temple was unnervingly quiet. Behind the main hall lay the residential quarters—it seemed that all the priests except the old master lived there. As I passed, I was especially cautious, avoiding any sound. It was then that a faint door creaked open.

I quickly hid behind a tree. From the quarters, a figure emerged; I observed him closely and, after a moment, recognized him as the so-called ageless Xuan Yi. He moved with extraordinary care, nothing like the daytime image of a venerable Taoist master; instead, he seemed furtive.

To my surprise, Xuan Yi was heading toward the Forbidden Gate. I followed at a distance as he glanced about anxiously, careful not to be detected. Soon, he arrived outside the Forbidden Gate, which was now unguarded but appeared to be locked.

Beyond the Forbidden Gate should be a large courtyard; its walls were high and difficult to climb. Xuan Yi was clearly intent on entering, and I sneered inwardly—whatever lay beyond must be extraordinary, else Xuan Yi would not venture here at midnight. Moreover, even Xuan Yi was forbidden from entering.

For a priest to sneak about in such a manner—if his followers knew, it would cause an uproar. I wondered how he planned to get inside. To my surprise, Xuan Yi simply walked past the Forbidden Gate. I followed, but after turning a corner, he vanished.

Afraid of being discovered, I dared not get too close. When Xuan Yi suddenly disappeared, I strode forward. He was gone, but I noticed several large stones stacked in the corner of the wall—he must have used them to climb over. Even with the stones, the wall was so high that anyone without considerable agility could not get inside.

It was clear then that Xuan Yi was not as frail as he appeared.

I climbed the stones and vaulted over with ease. Inside the courtyard, wild grass grew thick; my landing made barely a sound. Xuan Yi was nowhere to be seen. I surveyed the area—spacious, with several low buildings. There was no light; I could only grope my way forward by moonlight. The courtyard was empty; nothing outwardly marked it as special.

But since the old master forbade anyone entry, there must be something unique here. I fixed my attention on the houses. Slowly, I approached, searching long and hard, but still found no trace of Xuan Yi. Then, faintly, I noticed a light in one room.

I crept to the wooden door—wooden door, paper windows. The flickering light inside was clearly candlelight. I found a crack in the window and peered inside. Soon, I saw a square table, a candlestick atop it, and the old master seated before it.

His mouth moved as if conversing with someone, but when I looked to the opposite seat, it was empty.

Only his profile was visible in the candlelight—his graying beard tinged yellow. He continued speaking to the vacant chair, gesturing to the air from time to time. He looked not as if reciting scripture, but rather as though beckoning to someone invisible, which was unsettling.

With the old master occupied in that room, I carefully searched the others. Each was lined with dusty bookshelves; I rifled through several volumes but found no clues. I returned to the room where the old master sat.

Peering inside, he was still speaking to the air. The room was starkly bare, save for a few Taoist images—no extraneous decorations. Suddenly, a faint scream rang out—so quiet I almost missed it, but I quickly recognized Yunqing’s voice!

The sound came from within that room. My heart tightened; the old master stood abruptly and strode toward the door. Thinking I had been discovered, I hid. But the old master opened the door and, without closing it behind him, walked off into the night, his figure quickly vanishing.

Seizing the opportunity, I entered the room. The wind rushed in, extinguishing the candle. I softly called Yunqing’s name, but received no answer. I searched every corner, even beneath the bed, but found not a trace.

I began to doubt my ears—perhaps I had mistaken the source. I searched the neighboring rooms again, fruitlessly. Over half an hour passed; neither the old master nor Xuan Yi returned.

A bad feeling gnawed at me. Unable to find Yunqing, I had searched every possible hiding place. Suddenly, my mobile phone vibrated—Chen Fan asked why I hadn’t come out yet, adding that Xuan Yi had already descended the mountain. I was startled—so Xuan Yi had left long ago.

I told Chen Fan and the others to follow Xuan Yi and not lose him. After hanging up, I prepared to leave. The Forbidden Gate was locked from outside, so I stacked the stones as before and climbed out. Sansong Temple remained deadly silent as I strode ahead.

In the distance, I finally saw the old master standing before the main hall. I was surprised—I had not expected him to be outside as well. With the door locked from outside, unless someone opened it for him, he must have climbed out, unless he could walk through walls. Yet, considering his age, it seemed impossible for him to vault over the wall.

I did not approach him, intending instead to track Xuan Yi.

I exited Sansong Temple; Chen Fan and his group had vanished. As I prepared to pursue them down the mountain, the temple gate suddenly swung open. Instinctively, I turned; the one opening the gate was the old master. In his hand, he carried a red lantern, its glow painting his face crimson.

The old master’s expression was blank, his gaze vacant. He spoke, “Go down the mountain.”

As I was about to reply, I realized he was not speaking to me. I stood to his side, two or three meters away, yet his eyes remained fixed on the dark path descending the mountain. I held my tongue and continued to observe.

Suddenly, the old master nodded and spoke again, “You’ve stayed by my side for decades. Go down the mountain, and do not harm the world.”

He lifted his hand and slowly waved, as if bidding someone farewell.

He did not seem to be feigning mysticism. I frowned. Then the old master raised his red lantern and blew out the candle within.

He reentered the temple, but as the door closed, I heard him say, “Fang Han, leave the harbor.”