Gu poison

Chapter 9

They drank countless cups, completely drunk. In a hazy state, Yang Hong felt as if he were floating, drifting in and out of consciousness… He didn't know when the maid had left… yet he seemed to see his beloved wife again, so intimate and tender… but it didn't seem to be Xiaoyu, so who was it? Yet it was clearly a woman's body lying gently on the carved bed…

He finally regained consciousness and found himself lying on a silk quilt adorned with vibrant flowers. He felt an arm wrapped around his neck; he pulled it away, and a familiar voice sounded in his ear: "...You...are awake..."

He turned his head, and a woman's unique fragrance wafted into his nostrils. Ouyang's bare breasts came into view. In her bright eyes, her excessive excitement still burned, and a full, white hand, brimming with passion, kept caressing him.

He was startled and sat up abruptly, realizing he was also completely naked. "When did I become like this? How did I end up sleeping with the gang leader?" A huge question mark pierced his head like a nail, causing a throbbing pain. A mix of fear and shame made him instinctively cover his eyes with his hands.

"...You...were even more drunk than me last night...you're really energetic...I...haven't been this excited in a long time..."

She showed no sign of blame; in fact, she seemed to feel a sense of satisfaction, and there was a clear encouragement in her eyes.

"Oh, what have I done? Damn it!" he groaned in agony.

"You did nothing wrong... I like you..." She said tenderly, reaching out her fair arms to hug his waist.

“…But…I…” He wanted to say that he had let Xiaoyu down, but he didn’t say it. He just sighed heavily, “Alas, I’m not human!”

"Don't blame yourself like that." Ouyang seemed to see through his thoughts. "I won't break up your family. Besides, what man doesn't have multiple wives and concubines these days?"

Yang Hong was going back to Qingzhu Village. Ouyang had just rediscovered the joy of being a woman with him, and now she had to let him go. She was the leader of a gang, and she had hundreds of brothers to support.

10. Her eyes were wide open, gazing at him greedily.

Xiaoyu still can't understand why Yang Hong quietly left that morning. Did she do something wrong? Or did she do something to offend him? She couldn't figure it out. Her husband didn't return for a long time, and she fell ill with depression. Fortunately, the village elder took good care of her, and she gradually recovered. The village elder, old and frail, overworked and fearing she wouldn't live much longer, said to Xiaowu, "My son, I'm far from heaven and close to earth; death is nothing to regret, but I still have one thing on my mind..."

"Mother, tell me."

The old woman then told Xiaoyu the legend of "family witchcraft"...

The mountains are rich in treasures, attracting merchants from outside year-round who bring salt, cloth, and other goods in exchange for animal hides, medicinal herbs, and mountain delicacies. These eloquent merchants, seeing a pretty girl, would seduce her like lecherous dogs. They would swear eternal love, promising to become her son-in-law. Once the girl was pregnant, they would claim their parents were old and frail and they needed to return home to visit and fulfill their filial duties. Their words were earnest, but after two months they would be gone, rarely returning. This left the devoted women heartbroken, longing for their husbands' return by day and sleepless nights in their empty beds. They remained widows until their hair turned white, still clinging to the hope that their husbands would one day return.

It is unknown which dynasty or which infatuated woman created the secret "family curse"; when her husband went on a long journey, the woman put the curse in the farewell wine, according to the date of her husband's return.

The effective time was set. If the husband returned as scheduled, they would secretly add the antidote to the welcoming wine to remove the poison; if he didn't return, they would know that the heartless man was no longer alive, and thus end their longing...

"The method of making family Gu has been passed down through generations, but only to daughters, not sons," the village woman said as she finished her legend about family Gu. "You are my only daughter, and I can only pass it on to you."

Xiaoyu shook her head in horror: "I won't learn!"

"If you don't learn it, how will I face my mother in the underworld?" the old woman pleaded. "My son, can you bear to let me die with my eyes open in disgrace? For the sake of our mother-daughter relationship, please agree!"

Xiaoyu could only nod with tears in her eyes.

On the Dragon Boat Festival, at noon, the village woman, panting, led Xiaoyu to the top of a high mountain. She spread a handkerchief stained with honey on the ground and shouted "Oh ho, sniff ho!" Half an hour later, poisonous ants, centipedes, and snakes appeared one after another.

Five poisonous insects—including the spotted stinger, the sparrow urn, the swallowing beetle, the green sesame, the long kudzu root, and the pavilion head—appeared, crawling all over the long cloth. The village woman caught the five poisonous insects and put them into a small jar, took it home, and hid it in a dark corner of the bed. She said to Xiaoyu, "Leave the jar lid closed for years, letting the poisonous insects inside devour each other until only one remains. That insect is the Gu worm. When needed, take out the dead insect and its excrement, grind them into powder, and that becomes 'Household Gu.' This Household Gu can only be used to deal with unfaithful lovers..."

The old woman passed on her family's Gu poison to Xiaoyu, thus fulfilling her wish.

Before she died, she climbed into her coffin herself and said to Xiaoyu, "My mother came to me in a dream last night, and I'm going to see her!" Soon after, she passed away peacefully.

It was already late autumn in the Qinglong Mountains. The heavy ears of grain drooped their heads; the ripe corn grinned, revealing its golden teeth; the sweet potatoes pushed up the ridges, cracking all around, and some even poked their heads out... The people of Qingzhu Village were all busy.

In the evening, Xiaoyu was cooking for the helpers when she suddenly heard a familiar voice at the door: "Xiaoyu—" She turned around, her eyes immediately shining with surprise, threw down the kitchen knife in her hand, and pounced on Yang Hong.

"You're back, you're back..." Her eyes were wide open as she stared at him greedily, not even noticing the tall, strong young man standing behind him.

"This is Zhu Hu," Yang Hong said, removing her hands from her neck and introducing her.

Zhu Hu bowed to her, and she blushed with embarrassment.

That evening, she fluffed up the cattail pillow early, spread out the patterned quilt, added rapeseed oil to the oil lamp, and placed a bowl of cloud tea on the bedside table. After taking a bath and changing into underwear that smelled of soap, her jet-black hair, washed with tea oil, was flowing freely, and there was a longing in her intoxicated eyes.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," but Yang Hong felt that the so-called honeymoon had lost its heart-stirring sweetness. Not to mention that the oil lamp with three wicks added was no match for the bright light of the electric lamp, and in front of him, Xiao Yu still went to bed as before, wearing a red bib, snuggling under the covers, and waiting for his caresses.

Gazing at the charming Xiao Yu, Yang Hong's mind conjured up the image of another woman. Ouyang's love was like a strong liquor, making one's blood boil and passion surge, burning, incinerating, and melting in a state of ecstasy. Xiao Yu's love was like a cup of light tea, its fragrance subtle, requiring careful tasting to appreciate its flavor. While it could also stir feelings of desire, it lacked that ecstatic sensation.

He felt as if he were being unreasonable. During his time in Guangzhou, he often thought of Xiaoyu; back in Qingzhu Village, Ouyang's image kept flashing before his eyes. Ouyang allowed him to fully release his masculine instincts, while Xiaoyu fully satisfied his masculine dignity; neither of these women could he give up.

That night, he and Xiaoyu lingered together for a long time, and he listened to Xiaoyu rambling on about many things at home and in the village, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

The people arrived at Xiaoyu's house the next day.

Yang Hong then told his people: "This time you're back, you won't be leaving. Only by cultivating poppies can this become a reality." He instructed them to inform the heads of each branch of the family to come to the ancestral hall tonight for a meeting.

The once quiet ancestral hall became lively again. The bright red flames of the pine torches illuminated a dozen or so dark-faced deacons who solemnly looked at Yang Hong.

“I’ve been the village head for several years now, and I’ve long wanted to find a good way for everyone to get rich. This time, my wish has finally come true.” He spread out his palms. “Look what I brought.”

The eldest branch steward, Su Changli, glanced at it and said, "It's rapeseed."

“It doesn’t look like it,” the deacon standing nearby picked up a few poppy seeds, examined them closely, and said, “They are thinner than rapeseed, and the color is different.” He put the poppy seeds in his mouth and chewed them, then added, “They also have a strange fragrance.”

The people said, "These are poppy seeds."

The deacons were puzzled and said they had never heard of it.

Yang Hong told everyone: Poppies, like rapeseed, also produce fruit and oil. Poppy juice, after being boiled down, becomes opium, also called opium or tobacco, which people smoke to make them feel good.

The people said, "That's what opium dens in the city use; growing poppies will surely make you rich!"

"With only farming and eating white rice, how can we fill our stomachs with opium?" Su Changli said disdainfully. "I've heard that this stuff is expensive, but it's highly addictive and misleads people—"

"I won't mislead anyone!" Yang Hong knew Su Changli was a bit stubborn, so he changed the subject, "You all know how much rice an acre of land can produce. Who wants to grow poppies? I'll pay you based on the yield of two acres per acre, half upfront, and the rest after the poppy sap is harvested..."

"Where can you find such a good deal?" The first person to speak up said, "I'll plant all my fields with poppies."

"Village elder, do you grow poppies on all of your hundred-plus mu of rice paddies?" a steward asked.

“Grow poppies everywhere!” Yang Hong nodded and added, “If you don’t know how, I’ll teach you—it’s the same as growing rapeseed.”

"I'll plant some too."

Half of the deacons remained hesitant and undecided; because Su Changli stubbornly opposed planting poppies, they wanted to wait and see.

"Okay, okay," Yang Hong said with a smile. "If you've made up your mind, come find me anytime."

In the golden autumn of October, the harvested fields lay bare. On a clear day, Yang Hong called over Old Hu, the foreman, to demonstrate for the villagers who had gathered to watch.

About ten days later, tiny green lives sprouted in the furrows that had been swept with bamboo brooms and covered with fine soil; however, this green was not pure green, but a tender green with a hint of pale yellow, presenting a shy and delicate appearance to people, allowing the mountain people of Qingzhu Village, who were used to growing crops, to see poppies: at first glance, they looked like rapeseed, but upon closer inspection, they were even more tender than rapeseed.

During the Qingming Festival, people stand by the fields, watching and commenting on the branches and stalks.

"Its plant shape resembles that of rapeseed."

"The leaves are not as pointed as those of rapeseed."

"More prosperous than rapeseed."

When they bloom, the essential differences between the two become even more apparent: rapeseed flowers are a sea of golden yellow, while poppies bloom in a riot of colors, a dazzling display of hues. Especially the fields of red, so vibrant, so almost dripping, so alluring, like a seductive woman, and like a seductive woman, they possess a strange fragrance.

After the flowers fade, dark green, oval-shaped fruits grow on the poppy pods. These fruits grow larger and larger, hanging heavily on the branches.

11. In the twilight, her eyes shone brightly, as if burning with passion.

From the outside, the newly renovated opium processing plant looks no different from the old bamboo shoot processing plant. Stepping through the gate, the Kitchen God shrine in the main hall is still prominently displayed on the front wall. But looking to the sides, the scene changes dramatically, as if it has been completely renovated: on the right, a row of iron pots, each about an inch long and 1/2 inch long, sits atop a newly built stove. These pots were recently purchased from the prefectural city, and the base coat of tung oil has just been applied. On the left, a dozen or so large wooden barrels made from old fir trees still exude the fragrance of fir wood; these are used to hold poppy extract. In the storeroom, there are hundreds of wooden boxes of different sizes made from camphor wood by skilled carpenters, used to hold the opium refined from rice.

Zimin arranged everything perfectly, which pleased Yang Hong, who said he would not treat him unfairly.

Yang Hong solemnly promised that after all the poppy sap had been harvested, he would pay four silver dollars per load of opium oil, assuring everyone that he would not break his promise. The villagers had already received their advance payment, so paying for the opium oil was like getting extra money—why not? A joyous atmosphere filled Qingzhu Village.

In a narrow valley of Qinglong Mountain, there lived a hundred or so households in Qingzhu Village. However, the village wasn't comprised of clusters of houses; wooden cabins and bamboo houses were scattered haphazardly across the hillsides, riverbanks, and valleys, nestled in the dense shade of trees. Here, wild fruits abounded in autumn, and wildflowers bloomed in spring, their fragrance attracting bees. Tonight, the villagers, accustomed to the scents of wildflowers, smelled a unique fragrance—a strange, subtle aroma, like osmanthus but more intense, like camellia but more intoxicating, like musk but more rich and complex. Adults and children alike came out of their houses, greedily inhaling the fragrance, completely captivated.

This poppy sap is insoluble in water, just like oil and water are immiscible; it's immediately obvious. If someone accidentally spills a few drops of water into it, water droplets will immediately gather on the surface of the sap. At this point, the water droplets must be carefully scooped out with a leaf or a spoon. If there are oil stains mixed in with the sap, the residue must be removed with long, thin bamboo chopsticks. Ensuring the purity of the sap is the first step in refining opium, and it cannot be taken lightly.

Yu Min would inspect the quality of the opium oil by looking at it and stirring it with a steel rod before weighing it. Zhu Hu would keep the accounts, and payment would be made all at once after the opium oil was collected. Sometimes, Yu Min would also help Lao Hu refine opium. The technique was very simple, as long as the heat was controlled.

During a casual chat, Zhu Hu mentioned that in Guangzhou opium dens, one tael of opium cost one silver dollar. Zimin's mind raced, and he couldn't help but think: one load of opium oil can be refined into forty taels (in the old system) of opium, and one tael of opium is worth one silver dollar. Wouldn't one acre of land yield dozens of silver dollars?

"Wow, Yang Hong can make so much money!" The abacus clicked and clacked as Zimin gasped in astonishment. He hadn't expected opium to be so valuable in Guangzhou (he didn't consider that the price of opium sold to customers by opium dens differed from the price of opium purchased in bulk, the latter being only half the former). He certainly hadn't expected Yang Hong to be so shrewd and profitable, and a strange feeling welled up inside him. Jealousy tormented him, keeping him tossing and turning all night, muttering in his dreams: Why do you get so rich? Why can't I?

That day, he finally couldn't hold back any longer and stammered to Yang Hong, "Have I been working hard these past few months?"

"Nothing to say." Yang Hong wondered, what did he mean by that?

"You said you wouldn't treat me unfairly."

"You feel your wages are too low?" Yang Hong realized.

"I'm sorry," Yu Min said with a big smile, "You're eating meat in big bowls now, let me have some soup too..."

"I've treated you well, Brother Zimin!" Yang Hong said sincerely. "You've helped me for several months, and I gave you two hundred silver dollars, which is equivalent to five years of work by Lao Hu. That's not a small amount; you should be content!"

“But—” Zimin opened his mouth.

"Don't bring this up again!" Yang Hong said with displeasure. "I'll consider it later."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything more, but he couldn't help thinking about it. Yang Hong's return had given him far more than he had lost; and Yang Hong's sudden wealth made him extremely envious. What if all that opium were his? Only by eliminating Yang Hong could he reclaim everything that rightfully belonged to him!

People die for wealth, birds die for food; without desire, what is the point of living? Like a rootless tree leaf, or a skinless feather! The people pondered this deeply and made up their minds.

Tearing off the calendar page, it was early summer of the fifth year of the Republic of China. Since Yang Hong returned to Qingzhu Village to plant poppies last autumn, Ouyang had endured two hundred days and nights. For two hundred days and nights, she had been melancholy. There was no loving man by her side, no one with whom she could share both body and soul; her newly awakened desires as a woman had to be suppressed once more. She often comforted herself, thinking that their current separation was for a long-term commitment in the future.

According to the solar terms, the poppies have already borne fruit, and the opium should be ready for distillation. There is still no news of Yang Hong. How can one not worry about him?

Ding Er, who had something to discuss with her, noticed her unease and tentatively asked, "Could it be that Yang Hong sold the opium elsewhere?"

The world was in chaos, and the people were suffering. Opium dens were everywhere, and cheap and high-quality opium became a hot commodity.

“No!” Ouyang shook his head and said confidently, “He would never betray me…”

As dusk fell, the sound of horses neighing echoed from the gate, and her heart began to race. She heard a familiar voice call out to her: "Chief, have you been waiting long?"

Her eyes lit up—it was Yang Hong! It was Yang Hong! He and Zhu Hu had returned with three horses laden with opium!

She ran towards him and, without any hesitation, hugged him in front of so many people.

"You should have sent a message," she said reproachfully.

“I want to give you a surprise!” He moved her hand away, took the camphor wood box off the horse, opened the lid, and the shiny, dark brown opium was revealed in Ouyang’s bright eyes.

She looked at it, then held the opium under her nose and smelled it, exclaiming excitedly, "What a fine color! It smells so good! So good..."

In the twilight, her eyes shone brightly, burning with the fire of desire. As he directed the unloading of the pack animals, he answered her questions, and inadvertently glanced at her a few more times. He was immediately ignited by the fire in Ouyang's eyes, and his body instantly felt hot.

In the stillness of the night, Yang Hong slipped into Ouyang's room. Her face immediately flushed a radiant red, utterly alluring. After their passion subsided, they poured out their hearts to each other about their longing for each other since their separation…

With cheap, high-quality opium readily available, the White Tiger Gang's opium dens flourished once again. Those gangs that had only been waiting to watch the spectacle, seeing their own opium dens' business dwindling, had no choice but to turn back to Ouyang for help. A saying circulated in the underworld: "No opium? Go to White Tiger." The White Tiger Gang's position in the underworld became increasingly secure.

Lost in the blissful embrace of Guangzhou, Yang Hong spent over half a month in a blissful, almost honeymoon-like existence. Suddenly, he remembered that the villagers still owed half of their tobacco oil payment; he couldn't keep them waiting any longer. So, he hurried back to Qingzhu Village with his packhorses laden with silver dollars.

Yang Hong kept his promise, and the mountain villagers, overjoyed to receive double the silver dollars, praised Yang Hong to everyone they met for his loyalty and generosity, saying that following him was sure to be a good choice. Those who had hesitated were filled with regret, realizing they shouldn't have been influenced by Su Changli, and apologized to Yang Hong, promising to plant poppies this year. Yang Hong's reputation soared, and the leaders of neighboring villages, not wanting to be outdone, said they also wanted to plant poppies. Yang Hong, of course, readily agreed.

The people are busy with accounting and payments every day, and they tell everyone they meet:

"You got rich growing poppies, all thanks to Yang Hong!"

“Yes, yes,” the mountain people replied sincerely.