Chapter Eighty-One: Footprints

Kaleidoscope’s thorough analysis left me deeply impressed. As an antique dealer, I had failed to notice that both Parla Buddha statues had incorrect postures and ritual implements—clearly, I hadn’t done my homework. No wonder, back at Hongbin Restaurant, Ghostface Zhang insisted Kaleidoscope come along; it shows just how important this man is among the Nine Gates of Beijing. Though he might seem timid, he certainly doesn’t have an undeserved reputation. Truly, he is well-versed in ancient and modern lore, worthy of his fame.

Ghostface Zhang nodded in agreement after hearing this analysis, glanced at the statues, and drew in a deep breath of smoke. “So, what do you think we should do next to open this door?”

At this question, Kaleidoscope, who had just been eloquent and unstoppable, suddenly faltered. He stammered for a long moment, as if his mind had frozen, and finally managed a bitter smile: “For now, I don’t know where the mechanism that changes their posture is hidden.”

The group’s spirits sank, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over their heads. The figure in the black cloak grinned mockingly, “Ah, I thought you had some wise insight, Sixth Master. Turns out all that talk was just reminiscing about the past?”

Kaleidoscope, thoroughly ridiculed, hung his head in dejection, his mood wilted like a dish served late at night.

Ghostface Zhang took another deep drag, waving his hand. “Alright, since we know there’s something wrong with these statues, let's examine them carefully for clues. There’s no point in just berating him.”

Everyone nodded and dispersed to investigate the two Buddha statues and the tomb door.

Black Cloak, Mengya, and I approached the Black Stone Parla Buddha Mother. We circled her, inspecting the statue pressed tightly against the cave wall. The black stone was similar to typical black Buddha statues—jet-black, gleaming, perhaps from years of wear, its surface polished as if coated with oil or wax. The carved beads around her body were meticulous, but she wore little jewelry, giving her a solemn and compassionate air, free from the ostentatious brilliance of gold and jade. The lotus pedestal was a single-faced design, with each petal carved in three layers, each layer sparing in details, the lotus so smooth and bright it almost seemed to reflect light onto its viewers. The statue’s upper body was bare, hips draped with a simple curtain of strung jewels, feet naked upon the lotus, wrists and ankles adorned with bracelets. The anatomy was rendered with scientific precision, clearly inheriting the ancient Greek tradition of anatomical study and artistic pursuit of human beauty.

As I admired the exquisite craftsmanship, a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder, startling me. Turning, I saw it was Black Cloak. I whispered, “What’s wrong?”

He jerked his chin, and I followed his gaze. Mengya was off to one side, bent over, clutching her chest, doing something I couldn’t discern. I scratched my head. “What’s the matter with her?”

Black Cloak snorted. “How should I know? Why don’t you go check?”

I nodded and walked over behind Mengya. Just as I was about to speak, she turned around, startled by my sudden appearance.

“Mengya, are you feeling unwell?”

She wiped her face and shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.”

I glanced at the ground, noticing traces of vomit scattered about.

“Probably from being on the boat too long—my head’s spinning, my stomach churned, so I ended up vomiting.”

“Hey! Come here, quick!” The assistant’s voice called from afar. We looked over and saw him beckoning beside the Receiving Buddha.

Mengya and I exchanged glances and nodded. “Let’s go.” We hurried to the Receiving Buddha.

Ghostface Zhang was staring intently at a large chunk of rock behind the statue, his face dark and somber, eyes fixed on the cave stone, which stood as tall as a person.

I examined the stone carefully. It seemed no different from the other rocks in the cave, nothing unusual struck me.

“What’s going on?” I asked Ghostface Zhang.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. Just then, Black Cloak ran over, also inspecting the stone. Her eyes lit up, she crouched beneath it, exclaiming in amazement, “How—how is this possible?”

Their cryptic remarks left me utterly confused. I hadn’t understood a single word. I tapped Black Cloak’s shoulder. “What’s happening? Don’t keep me guessing—tell me, so I can understand. You always speak in riddles, making me feel like an outsider.”

Black Cloak looked at me, nodded, and pointed at the ground beside the stone. “Look here.”

I crouched next to her and examined the stone, which was taller than a person. Suddenly, a chill ran through me. In the earth beneath the stone’s crevice, there was the faint outline of a footprint, pressed just under the rock.

“This stone must weigh seven or eight hundred pounds. If there’s a cave behind it, we’d have to move it to get inside,” she pointed beneath the stone. “Look, there are no drag marks here. The clear edge of this footprint means whoever made it entered no more than two days ago.”

I nodded. Even if someone had Herculean strength and managed to lift the stone, there should be some trace. Yet, the stone seemed untouched. Could this person be a 'Maoshan Taoist'? Did they master the art of walking through walls?

Ghostface Zhang looked at me and took a puff of his cigarette. “If I’m not mistaken, the owner of that footprint should be Old Fourth.”

Old Fourth? My master? I was stunned. I’d been with my master for years, never knowing he’d studied Taoist arts at Maoshan.

“I called you over to see this. Think—does your master have any special abilities? You’re his apprentice, after all; things he might hide from us, he wouldn’t hide from you.”

I felt exasperated. All these years, I’d thought my master was just an ordinary antique dealer. Ever since Junye told me about the golden mask, my world had turned upside down—strange things kept happening. Now, parts of my memory seemed erased, and I couldn’t even trust the woman I loved, or myself. Black Cloak had appeared as if she were a long-lost lover, yet I didn’t know who she was. I’d been ambushed for reasons I couldn’t fathom. I wanted to ask myself if this was all a dream.

“Hey!” Black Cloak saw me lost in thought and called out.

I snapped out of it and glanced at Ghostface Zhang, feeling irritable. “I don’t know!”

Ghostface Zhang ignored me and continued investigating the massive cave stone, clearly troubled.

All this had worn me out. My mind finally relaxed after being taut for so long. I collapsed before the lotus pedestal of the Receiving Buddha, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

“praj?āpāramitā…praj?āpāramitā…” A woman’s voice chanting Sanskrit reached my ears.

I opened my eyes slowly. White light surrounded me. In front of me stood a blurred, familiar yet strange figure, chanting the Sanskrit phrase over and over. The voice seemed ever-present, yet unfamiliar.

I rose and approached the woman, trying to see her face clearly. But the dazzling white light blinded me, making it impossible to keep my eyes open.

She stopped chanting, smiled gently, and stroked my cheek. The sensation was ethereal—uncertain if it was real or imagined. It felt like the strange familiarity I had with Black Cloak—familiarity within strangeness, strangeness within familiarity.