Correos electrónicos mortales

Capítulo 1

Greed (one of the three poisons)

Sixty-eight years later, when my charred corpse falls onto the stone bridge, I believe that on my back there will only be one word.

Until that moment, I still didn't know what I had been greedy for all my life.

She liked to lean against the couch on moonlit nights, holding a long, jade-mouthed, rosewood pipe, three fingers gently supporting it, her little finger as delicate as an orchid. She would take a deep drag, sinking into a long, melancholic, dreamless, heavy sleep. Light and shadow shattered through the window. She glanced back at the moon, exhaling a wisp of smoke. Her posture was one of infinitely charming, serene composure. Old green and crimson hues, warmly decaying to the point of melting. Yet her eyes and brows remained so young and clear. Her skin, like an untrodden snowfield, seemed untouched by mud or decay.

Ah Zi has a pair of large, round, clear eyes. Innocent and naive, they sometimes dart around with a hint of fear. Her pointed chin and full, red lips are as soft as flowers. No one but me knows that a thousand lies are sealed within them.

Azi said, "Xu Xingzhi, what do you want me to do? I wasn't originally human, what kind of person do you want me to become?"

Azi said, "Xu Xingzhi, you know best what I am. I also know what you are. You're nothing more than someone with a human skin on. Isn't that right?"

I could almost see her mocking eyes again, half-smiling.

Ah Zi's eyes often held a kind of disdainful look. Disdainful, yet enigmatic. Enigmatic, yet innocent. So innocent that it made one forget everything else.

Ah Zi, whose lips and teeth seem to hold a thousand lies at any moment, has the purest face in the world.

For the sixty-eight years after Azi left, I kept seeing it. That was her revenge on me.

Later, I became an elderly Taoist priest wandering between the north and south of the Yangtze River. Clad in a star-studded crown and robes, the shadow of a yellow banner concealed a stoic, aged face. Upon closer inspection, one would find this face covered in dust, yet its skin was a pale, radiant red, full of youthful vitality. Only half-hidden by white beard. I carried this peculiar face east and west. No one knew how, amidst the peachwood charms and wooden swords, some foul-smelling schemes slithered through the shadows, sustaining my waning, gray-haired existence. If that could be called a waning existence.

Or perhaps my life, as a wellspring of sin, has already been far too long.

Ah Zi said, "You're nothing more than someone with a human skin." I never escaped her mocking gaze. Even if she ultimately crumbled into dust in my hands.

Did Azi know that she had already taken her revenge on me? In a way that was imperceptible and inescapable. I think that in the last moments of her life, she never imagined it would be a form of revenge. Azi wouldn't live or die for revenge. Everything Azi did was for herself, whether she lived or died.

Only for herself.

In the many years since her death, I have finally come to understand her. She belonged to this free, selfish, and hedonistic race. She was born this way. She was destined to be this way. And she could only be this way.

A hundred years ago, Azi was the most beautiful fox spirit I had ever captured.

---hqszs

Reply [2]: Vermilion characters.

The talisman was tightly affixed to the mouth of the porcelain bottle, while white smoke from incense swirled around it like a dragon. The smoke, lingering and persistent, sounded like the wailing of a vengeful ghost, its words long and resolute. "I am not reconciled. I am not reconciled. I am not reconciled." This single phrase, repeated over and over for millennia. The moonlight, like water, could not wash away the toxic stench of the phosphorescent fire.

The soul within the bottle, too, seemed to share the same resentment. Its soft sobs, piercing to the ear, possessed an indescribable allure. So what? She was merely a fox spirit with two hundred years of cultivation. Having just gained human form, this little wild demon had already become arrogant and ignorant. Having fallen into my hands, she was nothing more than a thin piece of paper; how could I possibly suppress her and prevent her from rising to power?

I tucked the porcelain bottle into my sleeve and, without making a sound, quietly stepped down from the altar. The scholar's parents and uncles, who had been staring in astonishment, seemed to finally come to their senses and rushed forward to thank me profusely, yet dared not get too close. Their eyes darted fearfully at my sleeve.

I said, "The demon has been vanquished; your son will be safe from now on." Having said that, I picked up my magical implements and strode away. Truly a virtuous master! Evil cannot prevail over good; indeed, this Taoist priest subdued the demon as soon as he arrived. Now, our family is safe, and our son is saved! He is truly a living deity who vanquishes evil and saves us from suffering!

I could hear the crowd still praising me behind my back, but I didn't turn around. As far as I was concerned, since I had already set up this altar and gotten what I wanted, there was no need to look back at what others were saying. Besides, I knew that the living deity they were thanking for saving them was not me.

I have never been the person they described.

The soft sobs from her sleeve drifted away with each staggering step.

The sun sets on the main road. It's dusk again. I walk into this humble roadside inn beside the ancient road. The dust kicked up by my cloth shoes disappears like a wandering ghost in the fading light.

Master, what would you like some? Our place is remote, and we only have some dried vegetables and bamboo shoots. Would you like some vegetarian noodles to eat first?

Are there any rooms available? I'd like to rest for a bit first.

Yes! Yes! Business has been slow these past few days. Even with only four customers, we have plenty of empty rooms! I'll take you there; I guarantee it'll be quiet. This way, please, Taoist priest.

In such a small roadside inn, the innkeeper also served as the innkeeper's companion. This plump man with a small mustache eagerly led me to a room that was reasonably clean. He brought me a pot of strong tea, and a moment later, he brought me vegetarian noodles. I told him not to bother me again, and then asked where the well was.

I can fetch my own water to wash my face; don't bother me. I'm getting old, sigh, and I've become withdrawn and don't like interacting with people much.

Yes! Yes! Daoist Master, the well is in the backyard, please make yourself at home. I will not disturb you. Before closing the door, the innkeeper smiled again, "As expected of someone who cultivates, even at such an advanced age, and after all the travels on the path, your spirit is still so vigorous. You look wonderful!"

I untied the cloth bag from my waist and placed it on the table. Yes, I'm so old, yet still wandering the roads. North, south, east, west, endless drifting. I looked like this a hundred years ago. I'm so old now. White hair, youthful face. Such good health. The innkeeper wouldn't know that it's simply a matter of transferring the crimson of the crane's crest to my face.

---hqszs

Reply [3]: Support

---Looking back, a hundred years have passed.

Reply [4]: I opened the cloth bag. Porcelain bottles, large and small, were bathed in the gradually fading twilight. The west-facing window could not hold back the last rays of the sun. People say that even immense wealth cannot buy back the fleeting years. Birth, old age, sickness, and death are things no one can defy. I have this rosy, wrinkle-free face, but it must be hidden among my messy white hair; ultimately, it cannot see the light of day. It was an abnormal red sun in the night sky that should have set but did not. The west-facing window exposed my secret. The sun of a wanderer always falls into the dust. People say that the setting sun is the end of the world. And home is something that cannot be seen even when looking to the ends of the earth. Over the years, my home has long been carried on my back. I, this wandering Taoist priest, am so old that my hair has turned completely white. All I possess is an invisible home carried on my back, and these porcelain bottles.

I suddenly remembered the first time I saw Azi many years ago; she also emerged from a porcelain vase that was gradually disappearing into the twilight.

The sunset was like gilding peeling away, revealing the underlying darkness beneath any beautiful scene. The woman appeared after removing the talisman from the bottle. "I knew you wouldn't kill me," she said. These were her first words to me. The struggle before being trapped inside the bottle had left her hair disheveled, and a faint streak of blood ran down her cheek. In the dim room, I saw her bright eyes roll for a moment, then the fear vanished, replaced by a sudden calm. Some people seem destined to exist in the darkness. Only in the night can they move freely, as naturally as fish in water. That night, Ah Zi, whose life was in my hands, disheveled and dressed in rough clothes, with a bloody scratch on her face, was released from a small porcelain bottle, revealing her innate allure.

I haven't forgotten that she wasn't actually human. Her charming smile was nothing but an illusion. She was just a beast. A wild fox with sharp claws and a long tail, roaming through tombs, perhaps having devoured corpses.

But Azi said, "I knew you wouldn't kill me when I saw you. Taoist priest, you and I, we are all the same kind of people."

Her eyes were fixed on me intently in the darkness.

I can't beat you. But you need me. Don't think I'll believe you really want to save that child. Someone like you is destined to be with me. We're a perfect match.

How far can a fox spirit bring pleasure to a man? Azi knew her life and death were in my hands, so she spared no effort in using her methods. Otherwise, how could she have drained the lifeblood of so many men? Though their bodies were beautiful and their lips delicate, their passionate pleasure was nothing but an illusion of flesh. She was nothing but a beast.

But why must people see the truth?

---hqszs

Reply [5]: When I left the inn the next morning, I rode a donkey and led four others by the hand. I can sell them when we get to the market ahead.

The donkey walked listlessly through the dust, its head drooping. These animals seemed resigned to their fate. Perhaps being an animal wasn't so bad. Even if it wasn't, there was nothing they could do.

The inn is empty. The owners and their three guests have vanished without a trace. No one will know.

The donkey walks slowly, but it's very strong. It will be sold quickly. That's enough. Why do you think people have to see the truth?

From that day on, Azi became my woman. She wasn't originally human, but I don't know what other words could better define her identity in my life.

I can't forget waking up the next morning in Azi's arms, feeling completely relaxed. The sunlight was blinding through the snow-white window paper. Azi's face, on the blue and white floral coarse cloth pillow, looked at me with a half-smile. "You're awake," she said, a hint of mockery in her dark eyes.

Her long hair was spread out on the pillow. Soft, cool, smooth black silk gently supported the skin of my back. A graceful arm pressed down on the blue silk quilt, its lines extending upwards to her prominent collarbone. At the end of that path, red lips bloomed. But I hadn't forgotten what she was. This beautiful face I shared a pillow with could transform at any moment into a furry, sharp-toothed beast.

If you want to live.

No need to say anything more. I know I'm already in your hands, and I'll obey your orders. Azi gently stroked her forehead with one finger, down the contours of her nose to her chin. Her eyes shone brightly.

"Taoist priest, do you think I don't know how you got this face?" She picked up a strand of white hair from my temple, blew on it, and giggled. "You and I are evenly matched; it's just a case of the big fish eating the small fish. What do you think of my methods?"

You're just a two-hundred-year-old fox.

I know. Your cultivation is naturally far superior to mine, otherwise how could I have fallen into your hands? But... what do you think of my methods? Azi raised her pointed chin, her expression possessing an innocent charm. Taoist, of course you are also a man.

I hurriedly put on my Taoist robe, got out of bed, and found a small gourd the size of a black bean in my bundle.

Daylight has broken. If you don't want to...

"I know." Azi interrupted me again. She squinted at the increasingly intense sunlight streaming through the window.

Her body transformed into a streak of fire and plunged into the gourd.

That was the beginning. The beginning of my thirty-year entanglement with Azi. Or perhaps, this entanglement never ceased in the sixty-eight years after she left. I should have known long ago that there are always things in a person's destiny that cannot be avoided or escaped. Azi was my destiny.

This woman, with her exquisite illusions.

Ah Zi dwells within a gourd, becoming one of the fox spirits I control. Those bean-sized gourds, hanging by my waist during the day, each imprison a mountain spirit within. Moonlight flickers, night dew swirls. They possess an evil yet not powerful force, which can be restrained and commanded with magic. If you approach the gourd, you can smell the cool phosphorescence and the scent of moss, along with a complex, faintly fishy odor. Beneath my apricot-yellow robe, I let them slumber restlessly in my body heat. And every evening, as the sun sets, I choose a secluded spot, open the gourd's stopper, and watch these impatient mountain spirits release wisps of peach, blue, and plum-colored smoke, hissing as they escape from the gourd's mouth. I know they, too, are already thirsty.

---hqszs

Reply [6]: Those spirits. Even if they turn into smoke, I will identify them one by one according to their different smells. There is the warmth of rotten wood, the dampness of water and stone, and the strange smell of incense that has seeped into the soil of ancient tombs over the years, mixed with the pungent and soft rotten smell of pearls in the mouths of corpses. It spreads endlessly in the blood-red, sleepy eyes of the setting sun.

Hey, the sun is setting and the moon is rising, hurry back!

An altar to suppress demons was erected, and incense to stabilize their souls was burned. Having already tainted these spirits with his own blood and the ash of spirit talismans, he had them bound, lest they escape and never return. The demonic mist swirled in the air, then vanished in an instant.

So I sat cross-legged to regulate my breathing and calm my mind. I knew that at this moment, those pale wisps of smoke had already silently blended into the streets where the noise of the city was fading and the lights were just coming on. The peaceful crowd was completely unaware. And tonight, under the moon and amidst the flowers, in brothels, outside low walls, beside thatched gates, even in the solemn Buddhist temples... with flowing robes, a beauty was about to arrive. The woman, with her misty hair and wind-blown tresses, would suddenly appear. Under the moonlight, she would climb over the wall, reaching up to the flower branches, and open her mouth with a charming smile. Such a mysterious beauty, no man could resist. That was every man's dream. And so, on fragrant grass or by the grass, with her skin loose and her lips richly rouged, they would spend a sweet and passionate night of lovemaking, wishing the night were too short... I could imagine the scene.

They were like fleeting kites, their vibrant colors flashing across the high sky, their arrival and departure beyond anyone's control. With a sigh, the man gazed into the distance, lost in thought, until they vanished without a trace. Little did he know that this was true mercy, a narrow escape from death. Otherwise, all his life force would have been exhausted, his life extinguished. A hundred years of life would be worth only a few nights of pleasure.

I was the one flying the kite. I never do anything without a price. It's just a pity those men wouldn't know that no matter how long the string is stretched, it will eventually snap back. The pleasure I gave them would eventually be taken away. The game is over.

Every night I played this kite-flying game. Back then, I almost never paid special attention to Azi. She wasn't the only one. She was just a wisp of grayish-purple smoke with a hint of musk and the pungent smell of her kind of animal.

Although she possessed the most beautiful illusory appearance.

I know she belongs to this race that reaps without sowing. It's in her nature. She's neither as fierce as a tiger nor as ruthless as a wolf, making her all the more cunning, elusive, and unpredictable. The world is so indifferent. Who lives, who dies, is determined by fate and the superiority of their own methods. In a life as jagged and ruthless as a saw, she always finds a way to avoid weaknesses, cleverly slipping past the cracks of life and death time and time again. In the dark night under the waning stars, this little beast silently slithers among the ruins. Its fur is furious and secretive. And whenever it pauses to look back, its slender neck and smooth fur exude an air of noble elegance, making it impossible to imagine what it might be doing at such a time and place. Perhaps it has just devoured the rotting corpses in the graves, or slaughtered a whole flock of chickens. And its emerald eyes are so languid and lost, carrying a slight disdain in the moonlight. Like a noblewoman lighting incense in her secluded boudoir, her eyes languid and weary. This beast, born with an understanding of allure and its uses, cherishes its fur and its fluffy, soft tail. When running, it shapes it into a cluster of swaying, delicate flames, allowing the ethereal glow of moonlight and phosphorescence to penetrate its fur more fully, nourishing each hair with an extraordinary luster.

---hqszs

Reply [7]: Hehe, have you finished reading all of those, MM? I've changed the search location again. ---hqszs Reply [8]: No beast is more cunning, selfish, and pretentious than them, yet they know all the secrets that bewitch the masses. It's an innate ability. It can lead people to bliss. If it so chooses. And when it is willing to do something, it usually doesn't come without a price.

Foxes are creatures that live with a scale in their hearts at all times. Perhaps they are among the most cunning creatures in the world. The romantic fox spirits in writers' tales, throwing themselves at poor scholars in dilapidated temples for love, are nothing more than self-deceiving fantasies in the desolate lives of these authors. If such an event were to actually occur, then the fox would undoubtedly not have come without any ulterior motive. I believe no one knows this better than I do—because I was the one who created countless such romantic tales.

I am the one flying the kite. Foolish people, if you could see the fleeting beauty and poignant emotions of life on the red carpet, the graceful movements of flowing sleeves revealing unparalleled faces, then so be it. Drink a cup, let your eyes be dazzled, your ears ring, your heart sway, your spirit intoxicated. Do not delve too deeply into the shadows behind the curtain, into the eerie white-haired, vermilion-faced Taoist priest. The kite in the sky, the hand holding the string, is not necessarily beautiful. Know how many poignant legends exist in this world, and if you pursue them to the end, after countless twists and turns, you will find nothing more than an ugly Taoist priest hiding in the shadows.

To be honest, my beautiful women hidden in the gourd never inquired about any legends. They had no interest in them, even though each of their faces was enough to serve as a poignant model for folk tales, endlessly reenacted and passed down. Their only concern was whether their daily tasks were completed, and their own cultivation and freedom. These seemingly languid, vibrant wisps of smoke were the most direct and least inclined towards romance. It's actually quite amusing. It turns out that only those who live a simple, peaceful life are so captivated by the dramatic and extraordinary aspects of so-called legends. Those lives already immersed in legends, however, never even consider such a thing. It's quite ordinary, really.

Who knows? Maybe it's just because they saw the hand that flew the kite.

All truths are rarely beautiful. They may even be quite ugly. But after seeing them many times, one becomes indifferent. Indifferent until only indifference remains. Like Ah Zi's faint, disdainful smile.

I can't remember. That kid from the Fang family, he was probably the 270th person I seduced and killed—no, I can't count, I didn't kill him—that's when you came. I fell into your hands, and from then on became your fox slave in your gourd. That's nothing. I guess it was just my fate.

As dawn approached, Azi, who had just returned, materialized in her ethereal form. In the greyish morning light, she leaned casually against her pillow, removing her narrow, embroidered satin shoes. She gently rubbed her toes, seemingly oblivious to me. She also seemed indifferent to her own self-proclaimed status as a fox slave. Seeing her carefree demeanor, no one would believe she was a fox slave imprisoned in my gourd, bound by spells, and arbitrarily manipulated and exploited.

---hqszs

Reply [9]: Sometimes I feel that Azi seems indifferent to everything. But that's impossible, of course. As a member of the most cunning of beasts, she is naturally adept at scheming. I know she cares about many things, though her serene, pure white face never betrays a trace of anxiety. For example, the life essence she absorbs from living beings, the inner core she cultivates day and night but which I have now sealed away. And of course, her freedom. No beast can bear to lose its freedom. Azi has already cultivated into a spirit, possessing the beautiful skin of a human woman. It is a skin far more beautiful than that of most real human women. But, she is still a beast after all. I know she hates me to the core. The kind of hatred a beast has for a person.

She was simply born that way. Her face, forever innocent and naive, was as pure and fragrant as a gardenia. Her clear, cool eyes seemed unable to conceal any secrets. And her full, soft lips could remain languidly red, red, red, a warm, carefree red that would remain even if the sun set and never rose again. Indifferent to worldly success or failure.

Her life is in my hands, as at ease as lying next to her lair in the wilderness.

You vixen! You've only been in cultivation for two hundred years, yet you've already charmed and killed over two hundred and seventy people? What a ruthless hand!

"What's so strange about that?" Azi curled her lip in disdain. Her expression was as round and adorable as a spoiled child. Those mortal men were either weak, bookish youths or dull-witted country bumpkins. Even if they absorbed all his essence, how much could he possibly have left? You do the math, how much could that possibly be? Don't you know?"

Why not obediently worship the moon and refine your form, find a secluded place to cultivate alone, and you won't fall into my hands?

"Moon-worshiping transformation? Then I'd probably still be just an ordinary fox! Maybe long dead, skinned and made into a fur coat." She laughed. Besides, those youths weren't necessarily innocent. Didn't they come to me because they were infatuated with me? Didn't you see their ecstatic expressions when they were with me? You must admit that I gave them a peculiar way of dying. She pouted and exhaled into the air. From Paradise directly to Paradise. I think the death I gave them was far more merciful than any death you, their kind, could give.

But what you gained by flattering others is now nothing more than working for someone else's benefit. I am the one who reaps the reward.

Azi impatiently kicked the quilt to the side.

That's only because my magical power is insufficient, so I have nothing to say. I've said it before, to me, it's a case of the big fish eating the little fish. Since I can't surpass you, I have no choice but to let you eat me. That's the rule of the game. Anyway, all my cultivation was obtained from others through evil methods, and now you've obtained it through the same evil methods. This is retribution. Xu Xingzhi, do you remember I told you that you're no better than me? Birds of a feather.

---hqszs

Reply [10]: I slapped her. Shut up. How dare you compare yourself to me? I am a human. You are nothing but a fox.

We are indeed different. She looked at me and smiled faintly. The mockery in that smile was still subtle, without the slightest hint of deliberate intent compared to before.