PDLP Chapter 62 Emergency Food
Chapter 62 Emergency Food
The forest gradually grew dark.
The rich aroma of persimmons, mixed with the coolness of the mountains, is refreshing and invigorating.
When Song Quyou walked into the persimmon grove, the ground was not covered with the yellowish color of ripe persimmons as he had imagined. Instead, it was swept clean, and even the fallen leaves were neatly piled at the foot of the trees, not extending outwards by even a fraction.
Stepping into the woods, there are stone tables and benches. Although they look rough, they are neatly arranged. They don't look like the den of wild monkeys, but rather the home of a hermit.
Song Quyou stopped in his tracks. A figure was sitting on a stone bench with his back to him.
The figure wore a tattered bamboo hat and a faded cloak, and carried a rusty iron sword on its back. Its back was slightly hunched, but when it sat there, its spine was straight, like an old sword sheathed.
Song Quyou cupped his hands and said, "My name is Song Quyou. I have come to pay my respects on behalf of the magistrate of Xu County. May I ask how I should address you, senior?"
The figure slowly turned around.
Beneath the straw hat was an old monkey face, its fur graying, its eyes lined with wrinkles, yet its eyes shone with an astonishing brightness. The rusty sword in its bosom emitted a faint hum, as if scrutinizing the newcomer.
"I have no name," the old ape said, his voice hoarse but clear, in perfect Mandarin.
"So, you little Taoist priest, coming with your sword, do you want to spar with this old man?"
Song Quyou shook his head and said, "This junior did not come to fight. I only want to ask, senior, why do you allow the monkeys to rob the villagers of their mountain goods?"
The old ape remained silent for a moment, then got up and walked to an old persimmon tree. It raised its hand and patted the rough, gray-black trunk gently, as if caressing an old friend.
"Young Taoist priest, do you know what this mountain is called?"
Song Quyou was taken aback, and answered truthfully, "I inquired before I came, and this mountain is called Maohou Mountain."
"Mao Hou Mountain," the old ape repeated, his tone carrying an indescribable meaning.
"This place wasn't called 'Monkey Mountain' before; it was called 'Full-Bite Mountain.' During famines, the persimmon trees covering the mountain were a life-saving food for birds, animals, and villagers."
Song Quyou didn't interrupt, but stood behind the old ape and listened quietly to its story.
"I vaguely remember that four hundred years ago, when my master and I first arrived in Qiantang, we encountered the backflow of seawater."
Farmland was flooded, property was seized, and villagers, homeless, survived the harsh winter by relying on the persimmon trees in the mountains.
Everything was over. The villagers returned home to rebuild their homes, and my master, along with me, would plant a few persimmon trees in these deep mountains every early spring. He said:
"These persimmon trees are easy to grow. No matter how barren the soil, they can bear a tree full of bright yellow, sweet fruit. In peaceful years, no one cares about the persimmon trees, but they can serve as food for wild animals and birds in the mountains. In years of famine, they can also be a life-saving food for the people."
After my master passed away, I led these monkeys in the mountains to plant persimmons every year, and now we have this mountain full of persimmon trees.
Following the old ape's gaze, Song Quyou saw a low stone grave deep in the forest. There was no tombstone in front of the grave, only a bright persimmon.
The old ape turned and stared directly at Song Quyou, his gaze suddenly becoming sharp.
"Young Taoist, let me ask you, which of these persimmon trees on the mountain was planted by those people down the mountain? And which of these stone tables and benches in the forest wasn't polished by my own hands?"
For hundreds of years, I have guarded this mountain, sweeping away fallen leaves in spring and protecting ripe fruit in autumn.
When famine struck, I allowed the disaster victims from the foot of the mountain to come up and pick persimmons.
But now, how could these people down the mountain bear to cut down the life-saving tree that has helped them through so many hardships?
Song Quyou fell silent, standing there stunned, unsure of how to respond.
Suddenly, a monkey tugged at Song Quyou's sleeve and brought out a ripe persimmon, gently placing it in Song Quyou's palm.
In the twilight, the persimmons were covered with a thin layer of blue frost, like a dim candle flame flickering in a dark room.
The old ape's voice was deep and resonant, carried on the evening breeze that was gradually rising in the mountains, full of a sense of vicissitude and remoteness.
"This autumn, several timber merchants came to the county town and said that the old persimmon trees on this mountain were of excellent hardwood and could be used to make beams and pillars for a hundred years. The villagers then got the idea to cut down the trees and sell them for money."
"I ordered the monkeys to steal their mountain produce simply to cut off their way into the mountains. If they don't go up the mountain, they won't bother with these trees, and so far no one has been harmed."
"These persimmons covering the mountain, though planted by us, I have never intended to enjoy them all by myself. Birds want to eat them, mountain beasts want to eat them, and if the people down the mountain suffer a disaster and want to eat them, I will never stop them. But if they want to cut down trees and destroy the forest, I will not allow it."
Song Quyou looked at the persimmon in his hand, then at the solitary stone tomb deep in the woods, and finally spoke, "Did you, senior, ever speak these words to the county magistrate?"
The old ape sneered: "I am a demon, they are humans. Who would believe the words of a monkey demon?"
A few days ago, the yamen runners were sent to drive them away with arrows. Did they even ask why?
Song Quyou held the persimmon in his palm; the coolness seeped into his skin through the thin peel, making it feel as heavy as a stone.
Song Quyou put the persimmons into his bosom and bowed respectfully.
"I have taken your words to heart, senior. I will ask the county magistrate about the tree-felling matter after I go down the mountain. If what you say is true, senior, then the fault lies not with the monkey, but with the man."
The old ape looked up at him, a hint of surprise in his eyes, and after a long pause, slowly said, "Little Taoist, you're not lying to me?"
"I dare not lie," Song Quyou said solemnly. "I will go up the mountain to inform you, senior, whatever the outcome may be in three days."
……
When Song Quyou descended the mountain, dusk had already fallen.
He did not return to his residence, but went straight to the county government office in Xu County.
Upon hearing of his return, the county magistrate, still wearing his outer robe, came out to greet him, his face full of anticipation: "My benefactor, has that monkey demon been slain?"
Song Quyou shook his head and sighed softly:
"My lord, that old ape is not an evil demon. For hundreds of years, it has led its monkey troop to plant persimmon trees on the mountain, and whenever there is a famine, it allows the people at the foot of the mountain to pick them for food."
For four hundred years, none of the persimmon trees on that mountain were planted by the people living at the foot of the mountain, yet they have saved the lives of the people living at the foot of the mountain time and time again.
The villagers are being driven away now simply to save the persimmon grove.
The county magistrate's smile froze.
Song Quyou looked directly at the county magistrate and asked, "May I ask, Your Honor, is it permissible not to cut down those old persimmon trees?"
The county magistrate's expression changed slightly, and after a long while, he sighed:
"Since my benefactor already knows, I will not hide it from him."
The persimmon tree was not... it was not I who wanted to cut it down, but Lunzhuan Temple had taken a liking to that batch of old persimmon wood, saying it was excellent material for making the beams and pillars of the Buddhist hall.
They offered the people a good price, and since I thought it would increase their income without doing anything morally wrong, I didn't ask any further questions.
When Song Quyou heard the words "Lunzhuan Temple", his eyebrows twitched slightly.
It's a Buddhist temple again.
The county magistrate's expression was complicated. He said in a low voice, "My benefactor, I know that the monkey demon is not evil, but that Wheel Reincarnation Temple..."
"How about Lunzhuan Temple?" Song Quyou's voice was calm.
The county magistrate gritted his teeth and lowered his voice:
"Lunzhuan Temple is a major temple in the prefecture, and the abbot of the temple has a close relationship with the prefect."
"This batch of old persimmon wood was personally requested by the chief minister. I am but a lowly county magistrate; how could I dare to say 'no'?"
Song Quyou cupped his hands and said, "Magistrate, I hope you can delay this matter for a while, and I will think of another way."
The county magistrate bowed and said, "My benefactor, I am but a lowly official. I can only buy you two days. I hope you can find a solution as soon as possible. If those county soldiers get involved, there will be bloodshed."
Song Quyou didn't say much, just cupped his hands in greeting, and left the Xu County government office.
……
As I stepped out of the county government office, the night wind rushed towards me, carrying the chill of late winter.
Song Quyou stood on the street, looking at the bustling street in front of him. His heart felt heavy, as if a stone was pressing down on it. He felt no joy or relaxation that was expected for the New Year.
I've always felt that the things these Buddhist temples reveal are like they're plotting something.
Cut down persimmon trees.
Dragon scales appearing inland.
With so few clues, it's really hard to guess what their purpose is.
At this moment, a little child led a woman past Song Quyou.
The little child, holding a candied hawthorn skewer, skipped and hopped around, happily asking, "Mommy, do all snakes that are about to transform into dragons cause floods?"
"Of course, those snakes that have attained enlightenment and wish to transform into dragons must pass through the flood to reach the sea and become dragons in the sea."
"Mother, after school tomorrow, will you and Father still take me to see the puppet show?"
The woman smiled gently, patted the baby's head, and said softly:
"Tomorrow won't work. The end of the year is approaching, and the monks at the temple have purchased a lot of grain and medicinal herbs. Father will go to help carry them, and Mother will go to help process the herbs."
The child was a little disappointed when she heard that it wouldn't work, but her expression quickly brightened. She took a bite of the candied hawthorn in her hand and had no recollection of what she had just said.
……
The speaker has no intention, the listener has the heart.
Song Quyou stood quietly in the middle of the street, an absurd idea rising in his mind.
The dragon scales that can store water appeared along the banks of major rivers in the mainland to help floods and aid a certain monster in transforming into a dragon in the sea.
Storing food and medicine was also to cope with floods and the plagues that followed.
As for cutting down the persimmon trees, it was to destroy the last lifeline of food for the people of Qiantang, since the winter when food was scarce was the hardest time to endure and also the best time to spread the word.
But all of this can only be considered wild speculation.
Song Quyou shook his head, thinking that if he said his thoughts out loud, people would laugh their heads off.
……
A crescent moon hangs in the sky, surrounded by swirling blue clouds.
It was late at night when they returned to their lodgings. Wang Xuan and Su Tang had not yet rested. Seeing Song Quyou's solemn expression, they knew that the matter was thorny.
The two entered the courtyard.
Song Quyou recounted everything that the old ape on the mountain had said, the county magistrate's claim that Lunzhuan Temple was going to cut down persimmon trees, and his speculation based on the words of a child he had overheard on the street.
Wang Xuan remained silent for a long time before slowly speaking:
"Junior brother's guess is probably pretty accurate."
The appearance of dragon scales in inland rivers, Buddhist temples stockpiling grain and medicine, and the government using its power to cut off the people's escape route—these three events can indeed be explained by one thing: someone wants to send a flood to transform the demon into a dragon.
Song Quyou looked at his senior brother Wang Xuan and asked doubtfully, "Senior brother, don't you think what I'm saying is absurd? If we really do that, wouldn't these Western Sect members not even be human?"
Wang Xuan stepped forward with a faint smile, patted Song Quyou on the shoulder and said, "It is precisely because it is absurd that it is normal to apply it to those fake Buddhists of the Western Sect."
Su Tang frowned slightly and said, "Senior Sister, please do your part and buy those mountains."
Upon hearing this, both Wang Xuan and Song Quyou were taken aback. Looking at Su Tang, who was quietly deep in thought, Song Quyou shook his head and said:
"Senior sister, this is no small sum."
Su Tang remained calm and casually waved her hand, saying, "I bought that mountain, so the mountain is mine, and the trees are naturally mine too. Anyone who wants to lay an axe should talk to me first. In Jiangnan, the thing I fear least is negotiation."
Wang Xuan nodded and said, "With my junior sister buying the mountain, the logging can be postponed for now."
Song Quyou pondered for a moment and said, "Now that the matter of the persimmon grove on the mountain has been resolved, Junior Brother, you should go up the mountain tomorrow and inform the white ape."
Su Tang yawned and said, "I'm going to bed early. Tomorrow I'll go back to the county town to arrange the purchase of the mountain."
……
The next morning, as dawn broke, Song Quyou set off for the mountain.
The mountain path remained quiet and still, with withered grass covered in a thin layer of frost that rustled underfoot.
When he reached the halfway point of the mountain, several monkeys peeked out from the treetops. Recognizing him, they no longer bared their teeth to drive him away, but instead chattered and led the way, as if welcoming a guest.
The persimmon grove was bathed in the morning light, and the trees were full of golden-red fruits that glistened in the thin frost.
The old ape remained seated on the stone bench, his back straight, clutching the rusty sword in his arms, as if he hadn't moved all night.
Song Quyou stepped forward, cupped his hands, and said, "Senior, this junior has come as promised."
The old ape slowly opened its eyes, its glint concealed, its aged face revealing neither joy nor anger: "Only one day has passed, and the young Taoist priest has already arrived. Does he bring good news or bad news?"
"The felling of trees has been temporarily suspended."
Song Quyou briefly recounted Su Tang's intention to buy the mountain, and then added:
"My senior sister's family has some connections in Jiangnan, so buying a few hilltops wouldn't be difficult for them. Once they have the land deeds, no one can touch this persimmon grove."
The old ape remained silent for a long time.
A morning breeze swept through the persimmon grove, causing the branches and leaves to tremble gently, as if whispering secrets.
The old ape slowly stood up, walked to Song Quyou, and suddenly bowed deeply. Although its body was hunched, the bow was perfectly upright, its spine forming a very low arc.
"On behalf of all the persimmon trees on this mountain, I thank you, young Taoist priest."
Song Quyou quickly stepped aside and reached out to help him, saying, "Senior, there's no need for that. This is what I should do."
The old ape straightened up, his gaze sweeping over the persimmon grove and landing on the low stone tomb in the distance. His voice was hoarse and deep:
"Four hundred years ago, when Master was on his deathbed, he pointed to these newly planted persimmon saplings all over the mountain and said, 'These trees on the mountain have saved people and are grateful. I don't ask everyone to be grateful, I only ask that no one cuts them down and that they can live to the end of their lives.'"
But now, even that last bit of hope is slipping away.
The old ape sighed softly, took out a yellowed booklet from under his cloak, and handed it to Song Quyou: "I have nothing else but this method of forging flying swords to give to the young Taoist priest and his senior sister."
Song Quyou looked at the booklet in his hand and murmured, "Flying sword?"
The old ape smiled faintly, and the rusted iron sword in its arms gleamed, humming like the cry of a crane. A silver light flowed from the scabbard, circled the old ape three times, and finally hovered before Song Quyou's eyes.
Song Quyou stared blankly at the flying sword hovering before him, its silver light swirling, every rust mark on the blade seeming to come alive, breathing softly in the morning light.
"This sword is named 'Ling Shuang'." The flying sword trembled slightly, emitting a clear and melodious low sound, as if in response.
The old ape smiled faintly, his flying sword Ling Shuang moving freely in the air, weaving through the persimmon grove. When it returned, two ripe persimmons had fallen into the old ape's hands.
Ling Shuang returned to its sheath, and the old ape tossed a persimmon to the old ape, laughing loudly, "Young Taoist priest, the persimmon is sweet, excellent! Excellent!"