Chapter Eighty-Five: The Strange Oddity in the Painting (Third Update)

As Zhou Bai’s secluded cultivation in Nether Street proceeded steadily, the effects of that brief spell of cold rain had begun to ripple outward.

It was deep night, yet the southern quarter of Capital Hang remained ablaze with lanterns and revelry. Three pleasure boats, each carrying dozens of guests, lay moored at the riverbank of Clear River.

More than half a month had passed since the strange incident at Clear River. By now, the offices of the Underworld Rites Bureau had been established, and the curfew had also been lifted by the authorities.

As people grew more acquainted with talk of ghosts and gods, their fear diminished as well, and the night regained its former splendor.

Tang Yin stood before a crowd of guests, speaking endlessly, his face flushed and already three parts drunk.

Since he had painted the Immortal and Immortal Tree Drinking Picture, Tang Yin’s name had fully resounded through the land, and even his poems and verses had become priceless.

The great pleasure houses all treated him as an honored guest, and the young courtesans each hoped to obtain a piece of calligraphy or painting from him. So long as a work carried even the faintest trace of immortal grace, it would not be an exaggeration to say it could travel a thousand miles and earn renown.

After the third watch, the lanterns on the pleasure boats began to dim, and Tang Yin prepared to take his leave. Many courtesans tried to keep him there, but he refused them one by one.

By now Tang Yin’s ambitions had risen as well, and he naturally looked down on these painted beauties. Yet after gaining favor, the benefits were obvious.

Those old friends who had turned cold after his failure in the metropolitan examination had begun to seek him out again.

On the surface, Tang Yin accepted their overtures gladly, but inwardly he held them in contempt. After blowing a while in the cool night air, he staggered home with the rewards money in hand.

His house had been passed down from his ancestors, and could only be described as bare as a monk’s cell. The furniture was broken and shabby, and there was not even a quilt on the bed to cover his body.

Fortunately, his fame was now great, his rice jar was full, the hole in the roof had been patched, and money was no longer lacking. He needed only a touch more distinction in office and rank to bring honor to his forebears.

Unable to sleep for the moment, Tang Yin lit an oil lamp and read for a while.

But after drinking, his head throbbed as if about to split, and he could not take in a single line of the sages.

“Perhaps I should paint something instead,” he thought. “Then sell it to some wealthy household in the city. With silver in hand, I can settle down and study in peace.”

With that in mind, Tang Yin laid out a sheet of rice paper on the table, weighing down the corners with stones. Then, by the lamp light, he searched the room for his brush. He found the brush, but the inkstone was nowhere to be seen.

“Strange. Where is my inkstone?”

Rubbing his temples, Tang Yin took the candle lamp into the courtyard and found the inkstone outside beneath the windowsill.

After bringing it back into the room, before he had even begun to grind ink, he discovered that the inkstone was already full of ink without anyone knowing when.

“I’ve had it sitting outdoors these past few days, perhaps there was some ink left in it from before. Never mind, I’ll try using it first...”

Tang Yin dipped the brush into the ink, and the bristles quickly soaked it up. As he brought the brush toward the rice paper, the oil lamp beside him suddenly flickered bright and dim.

“Does the wealthy Li household in the south of the city still have no heir? Then I shall paint a Guanyin for seeking a child.”

Under the faint lamplight, he began to move his brush. His shadow stretched longer and longer, reaching all the way into the corner by the wall.

Tang Yin only felt as though divine aid had descended upon him. The more he painted, the clearer his mind became, and in his eyes the image of the child-giving Guanyin grew ever fuller.

Yet if another person had seen it, they would have found the painting strange indeed: Guanyin was holding an infant, but the face was blank, left utterly empty.

By the time Tang Yin had filled in every detail, the amount of ink in the inkstone had dropped by one quarter.

By then it was already the fifth watch. Sleepiness surged over Tang Yin, and he collapsed onto the bed and soon fell into a deep, snoring sleep.

Meanwhile, the faceless child-giving Guanyin on the table was stirred by the wind slipping through the crack in the window. The rice paper quivered faintly, as though the bodhisattva within the painting were about to step out of it.

When Tang Yin, drunk and hungover, woke the next day, his head was splitting with pain and he had no memory at all of what had happened the night before. He only felt weak all over, as though someone had propped him upright the entire night.

Still, the small pouch of silver by the bed gave him peace of mind. He weighed it in his hand, and a smile lit his face.

Once Tang Yin felt somewhat better, he rose from bed. Morning sunlight came through the papered window, and the painting on the wall came into view as well.

Tang Yin’s expression stiffened at once. The child-giving Guanyin picture was indeed superbly painted, but Guanyin’s face was not a human face. It was that of a water buffalo.

An utter discordance seemed to leap from the painting. Staring at it too long might even unsettle the mind.

Tang Yin too felt deeply ill at ease, especially with those buffalo eyes, which seemed to be staring straight at him. Gooseflesh rose all over his body.

He rolled the entire painting up. At first he thought to tear it apart, but for some reason he could not bring himself to do it. After thinking it over, he hung it on the wall and left it alone.

At the very same time, something strange was happening at the home of the wealthy Li household, across half the city.

Because their courtyard had some rice paddies and crops planted in it, they kept a cow there.

And this cow had mysteriously become pregnant. It should be known that none of the neighboring households kept cattle, much less did this cow usually remain shut up in a storage shed.

The family did not think much of it. After all, this was plainly a good thing. A draft cow was highly valuable, and if it could give birth to a calf, that would count as unexpected wealth.

But the matter developed in an exceedingly bizarre way. In the morning, the cow’s belly had only just begun to swell, and by afternoon it was already showing signs of labor.

Before the eyes of the entire Li family, the cow gave birth to a baby boy.

After giving birth, the cow let out a few low cries and then went still. A little blood trickled from its nostrils and mouth, and its body stiffened motionless.

Everyone was stunned. Master Li immediately thought of reporting the matter to the Underworld Rites Bureau, but he was stopped by his own wife.

Madam Zhang’s face was alight with joy, and around her wrist was a string of Buddhist prayer beads. In all these years she had repeatedly sought a child without success, and had already become somewhat obsessed. The moment she saw the infant, she could no longer tear her eyes away.

“Yesterday I only just went to the Divine Tree to pray for a child, and today Heaven has bestowed one upon me. No one will take this baby from my hands.”

She held the infant close, her expression turning almost hysterical, while she kept muttering words no one could make out.

Master Li’s face darkened. With a wave of his right hand, the surrounding servants all withdrew, leaving only the two of them alone.

“Listen to me. This child is a disaster. Since when does a cow give birth to a human?”

Madam Zhang shook her head. Looking down at the infant in her arms, she gritted her teeth and suddenly turned to run, hurrying back toward her own chamber.

Master Li went after her, but he was a half-step too slow. He could only watch helplessly as Madam Zhang bolted herself inside the room.

Several servants gathered at once. “Master, what are we to do?”

“Family shame must not be made public. Let me contact the Underworld Rites Bureau first. Before that, send the meals to Madam’s room.”

Master Li was deeply helpless, and a faint thread of hope still lingered in his heart, so he added, “Go into the city and find a wet nurse. Quickly.”