bad seeds - Chapter 5
Ye Tong stuck out his tongue, made a face, and said in a sinister tone, "Gatekeeper of Hell."
These five words clearly penetrated my eardrums, as if they possessed a magical power to shield us from the noisy environment. I suddenly felt as if I had entered another quiet and rigid state. I think I was probably stunned by these words.
"I think we've stumbled upon a grand ceremony that only happens once every few centuries!" Ye Tong's voice rose a half-tone with excitement. I suddenly snapped out of my daze and took a sip of the bubble tea in front of me to hide my bewilderment.
“It has been said since ancient times that our clan possesses an ancient divine box containing divine pronouncements. Every few hundred years, when the box shows unusual activity, the divine pronouncements are revealed, and the entire clan must gather from all corners of the land for a grand sacrifice! It is said that this divine box has been passed down for thousands of years!” Ye Tong suddenly leaned closer, a smile on his face, and said in a deep tone, “This legend has been passed down in our clan since ancient times. I have heard it hundreds of times since I was a child. What is imprisoned within the divine box is the finger of a demon that our ancient prophet severed when he subdued the demon. When the finger shows unusual activity, the demon will descend once more!”
Looking at her expression, I knew she had no choice but to go, but I felt a little uneasy. Perhaps it was because of the phrase "gatekeeper of hell," or perhaps it was because Ye Tong's yearning for the mysterious world was enough to drive her to do something crazy.
"That's so weird?" I chuckled. "Why should I believe you? Do you think I'm a child?"
"Believe it or not, it's up to you." Ye Tong suddenly leaned back, crossed her legs, and resumed her nonchalant tone, "If you don't want to see the demon-slaying ritual that only happens once every three or four hundred years, that's fine too. I'm not forcing you to go!"
However, I eventually agreed to go to Delingha with Ye Tong.
Curiosity, that damned curiosity again.
I think I've fallen into the trap of curiosity again.
Chapter Three - Demon-Slaying Ritual
I applied to my supervisor for a week of annual leave and embarked on my second journey to Delingha, Qinghai, with Ye Tong.
Coincidentally, among the people who boarded the bus in Baotou, Ye Tong met her cousin.
It is said that a considerable portion of their people are scattered throughout the country, some even never having met each other. Only about a hundred people remain, still living a nomadic life deep in the Qaidam Basin according to tradition. Strangely, there seems to be a special bond between the people.
Using this method of identification, Ye Tong and her cousin, whom she hadn't seen for over a decade, quickly recognized each other.
His cousin was not a very talkative guy. He would only chat with me occasionally. Most of the time, he would either be lost in thought or talk to Ye Tong for a few minutes. He seemed to be very worried.
They sometimes communicated in a dialect I couldn't understand, clearly not wanting me, an outsider, to learn too much about their tribe's secrets. It seemed my cousin knew more than Ye Tong. During their conversation, Ye Tong would occasionally show surprise or thoughtful expressions. She would also translate key parts of their conversation for me, concerning the legendary ruler of their tribe—the God Box. This ritual seemed extremely important, almost as if it concerned fate, and it involved a grand and rigorous ceremony—all of this seemed increasingly alarming to me.
I was somewhat skeptical of this. Compared to this vague and unsubstantiated legend, I was more interested in the sealed-off Baigong Mountain and that mysterious Neolithic site.
After a tiring two-and-a-half-day journey, I once again set foot on the severely desertified land of Delingha, while Ye Tong returned to her hometown, which she had left more than a decade ago.
Ye Tong contacted distant relatives in the area and learned that the clansmen were temporarily staying in the suburbs west of Delingha.
Our group of three continued westward. Along the way, many people greeted us and exchanged pleasantries, but most avoided us like the plague. When we tried to buy things from street vendors, we were met with extremely rude treatment. They appeared fearful, refusing to sell us anything or touch our money. It seemed as if even speaking to us was something they disliked; they simply kept urging us to leave in their local language. The local people also covered their faces with cloth, clearly not wanting to be recognized.
A peculiar scene unfolded on the street. My clansmen and I swaggered past like a gang of thugs bullying the market. Passersby scattered, and curious children were forcibly dragged into houses by adults. Only a few outsiders remained, watching our group with curiosity but not daring to get too close.
I suddenly realized how influential the terrifying legend of "Demilch" was among the local people. Ye Tong and her cousin's cryptic conversation on the train wasn't meant to deliberately create a terrifying atmosphere for me, but rather, this sense of terror had gradually seeped into me.
The closer they got to the suburbs, the more people they met. It seemed that, as Ye Tong had said, all the clansmen who had received the notice were gathering there.
In an old but very clean house, I met the chieftain of "Demilshi," an elderly woman. Ye Tong and her cousin both called her "Grandma."
Grandma didn't seem particularly happy about her grandchildren's return. She simply gestured for us to sit down and had someone bring us some water and dried fruit. She seemed to be carrying a heavy burden on her mind.
Logically, there should be no reason for an eighty-year-old woman to frighten me, even though her wrinkled and spotted face had a stern expression. I always felt threatened, especially when she looked at me with her eyes hidden behind weak, drooping eyelids—perhaps because the strange ornaments she wore all over made her look a bit like a witch.
"He's not one of our people, so who is he?" Grandma asked Ye Tong.
“He came with me,” Ye Tong said.
"You know the rules, we don't welcome irrelevant people."
"He is a very good friend of mine," Ye Tong said in a somewhat ambiguous tone, so I gave her a similarly ambiguous smile, and she winked at me.
Grandma finally smiled a little. I think Ye Tong and I both took advantage of an elderly person's misunderstanding about something.
"Alright then, he can observe our ritual, but you must make it clear to him."
"According to Chu rules, you've all traveled such a long way and must be tired. Go and rest for a bit. We'll meet in the courtyard this evening."
evening.
When the last ray of red glow faded from our sight.
A bonfire was lit in the center of the open space, and a huge altar was set up on the side closest to the house. Strangely, there were no offerings on the altar, only a strange little box in the center. That might be the legendary box that imprisoned the demon's finger. I wanted to go closer to take a look, but Ye Tong gestured for me to sit down.
Ye Tong disappeared after I woke up from my afternoon nap, and I only spotted her again in the crowd now. She had changed into her tribal clothing, and was also wearing some ornaments I had never seen before, unlike the usual intricately patterned ethnic jewelry.
It wasn't a simple piece of jewelry, but rather a simple design. Her ethnic clothing complemented her appearance perfectly, making her even more charming.
If I wore this to work, I wonder how many people I would seduce. I stood to the side, watching nearly a hundred people gathered in three layers, but what struck me as odd was that it seemed that only my grandmother was an elder from the clan, and those attending the gathering all seemed to be young men and women under 30.
Could it be a mass wedding or a martial arts contest to find a husband or wife? I wondered to myself.
Suddenly a loud voice rang out—you would hardly imagine that it was an elderly man, well past seventy and looking on his deathbed, speaking.
“Fellow tribesmen!” she said in slightly broken Mandarin, probably because not all the younger generation in the tribe were fluent in the local dialect—Ye Tong had mentioned this to me before.
"The devil's fingers are stirring, and the signs of the God Box are descending once more. Repel the demon lurking in the darkness, preventing it from devouring anything in the world. This is the mission God has given us. You should all have this belief in your hearts. We are God's servants, and this mission has been passed down for thousands of years. A new generation of heroes will emerge from among you!"
The crowd remained silent.
Sitting to the side, I felt a slight chill, unsure whether it was from the desolation of the Gobi Desert in October during the Mid-Autumn Festival or from the strange and somber scene.
A member of the tribe brought out a huge glass, almost enough to hold a liter of water, and placed it in the center of the altar. The glass was more than half full of water.
"We still follow the ancient rules: each person grabs a handful of sand from the ground and throws it into a cup. The person whose cup overflows is the warrior chosen by God!"
People began to line up and throw sand into the cup. The water level in the cup rose higher and higher. When it got close to Ye Tong, the cup was almost full. The young people a few steps ahead of Ye Tong began to carefully put the sand in the cup little by little.
Amidst the bustling procession of people, I vaguely caught a glimpse of Ye Tong's half-closed, smiling expression.