(What a pain.)
Maomao must have scoffed unconsciously.
The old doctor and Keyou were both nodding.
Only Chouyu had his eyes sparkling.
"That's incredible—how do you walk on the water?"
"Well, you just set your next foot on the water before the one you placed sinks, and keep going."
"Incredible!!"
Maomao tapped Chouyu on the head, thinking "Don't be fooled," and gave Keyou a sidelong glance.
She'd thought he was harmless, but apparently he had this side to him too.
"Could you really do something like that?"
"There's no way—is what I'd like to say, but..."
The old man stroked his shaggy beard and gazed outside.
He had a somewhat complicated expression.
"When I was a child, I saw a scene like that."
"Walking on the water and dancing?" Maomao tilted her head as she said this.
Chouyu imitated her, and for some reason, Keyou did the same.
(These people are pretty noisy.)
She looked at the old man while thinking this.
"Yes. It was before I left the village. Originally, serving the snake god was the role of the shrine maiden."
It turned out his family were distant relatives of the village chief, and women from the chief's bloodline had been chosen to serve as shrine maidens.
But just earlier, the old man had said the shrine had been left abandoned for decades.
The reason was—
"Because my daughter was taken in a round-up of court ladies for the rear palace."
She could only nod in understanding.
Thus, with the ritual that had been passed down through generations via oral tradition no longer being practiced, the shrine had been left abandoned. Around that time, a new village chief had taken over from the previous one.
The previous village chief, not being particularly devout, had left it alone, and the upkeep of the shrine fell by the wayside. The village, which had once been whole, split into three parts—much as the forest itself had been divided. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that the shrine maiden who had held the three already-separated villages together was gone.
And so, in an effort to maintain at least the appearance of things, the old man who had returned to the village was now living in this shack as its caretaker.
"Did the former shrine maiden never return to the village after her service ended?"
"Ha ha. She was a gentle-spirited girl, you know. As if she'd need to come back to a village like this."
(That makes sense.)
The one she had gotten along well with in the rear palace
Xiaolan
crossed her mind. Sold off by her parents to ease the food shortage. Xiaolan had understood that reality too—knowing there would be no place for her even if she returned, she had gone out and found employment on her own after leaving the rear palace.
For a girl with even a modicum of wit, there were countless opportunities to find something better than her previous life. In that sense, too, the rear palace was a place where women could rise in the world.
"The previous village chief, right up until he died, was lamenting about that very thing. If he had so many complaints, he should've told her to see a proper doctor instead."
"Ha ha ha. That's a good one. There really are people like that, aren't there?"
Because Keyong kept laughing without understanding what was so funny, the old man rapped him on the head.
Maomao gazed outside.
"There's no boat, so how do you get across? We need to check on the shrine, don't we?"
When Maomao asked, the old man drew a circle on the long table to show her.
"Apparently the Master gets angry if you use a boat. Even fishing has its designated spots. You can't see it from here, but there's a bridge on the far side of the island. If you're curious, feel free to go take a look. And while you're at it gathering herbs, pull some weeds for me."
"Why do we have to pull weeds too?"
"You're getting into a sacred place for free—that's a bargain, isn't it? Come on, Keyong. Take her over there."
"Aw man. What a pain."
Even as he grumbled, he was already getting the sickle ready.
She could have ignored the whole thing, but Zhao Yu kept going "Sooo cool" with stars in his eyes. The little brat had recently taken to believing that if he threw himself on the floor and threw a tantrum, he could get whatever he wanted.
"Over by the shrine, there are incense trees growing. The leaves are no good, but if there are seeds, you can pick a few."
"..."
Maomao glared at the shrewd old man and picked up the sickle.
Maomao and the others made their way around to the back of the lake. Though it was called a lake, its transparency was low, and if it were any smaller, one might call it a swamp. Leaves resembling lotus floated here and there on the water's surface.
Chou U had been terrified of the smallpox scars, but his knack for useless adaptation had kicked in, and he had grown thoroughly attached to Keyou. At some point, Keyou had ended up carrying him on his shoulders, and unlike with the other men, he was a bit unsteady and wobbly.
"See, it's right over there."
Just as Keyou pointed out, there was indeed a bridge on the far side of the small island. It was an unremarkable sort of bridge—logs driven into the lake bed serving as pillars.
(Is this bridge safe?)
Maomao eyed the bridge with deep suspicion. It wasn't a stone bridge to pound on, but it looked terribly old. It would be a real problem if it collapsed halfway through.
"Hahaha, it's fine! It's sturdier than you'd think."
Keyou set Chou U down from his shoulders, stepped onto the bridge, and bounced up and down. Sure enough, it didn't seem as fragile as it looked.
"Oh..."
With that dopey exclamation, Keyou lost his footing and tumbled into the lake.
"What are you doing, big brother?"
Chou U reached out and pulled Keyou from the water.
"Hahaha, sorry, sorry."
Keyou scratched his wet head with his wet hand. Perhaps because he wore an eye patch, he had trouble judging distances.
Keyou took off his damp jacket and wrung it out. His gaunt body bore scars here and there. Staring would have been rude, so Maomao crouched down to examine the bridge.
She tapped it, and the wood gave a hard, dense sound.
"They say this bridge was built over thirty years ago."
Keyou draped the damp jacket over his shoulder as he spoke.
The bridge was built considerably higher than the water level, presumably to account for rising waters.
"So it doesn't rot."
"Yeah, it looks like they used some kind of southern wood. This bridge is probably far sturdier than it looks. I'd imagine it cost a pretty penny to build."
With that, Keyou started walking toward the small island.
Maomao followed, but something felt off.
The small island, with its shrine, was built up considerably higher than the water, much like the bridge. Traces of flooding remained on the stone steps leading up to the shrine.
At the top of the steps stood a small shrine, surrounded by overgrown weeds. Among them, Maomao spotted a large leaf and thought it must be the smoking herb. Something flower-like grew at its tip, but it hadn't gone to seed yet. It looked like it would need a bit more time.
(That old man.)
Maomao snorted, resolving to properly collect seeds from the plant before heading home.
She looked around the lake. What had once been a large forest was now split into three separate groves. Beyond them, she could see the village.
(That's odd.)
She finally understood the source of her earlier unease.
It was the position of the small island and the bridge. The bridge was placed in an awkward spot. It sat at the farthest point from any of the villages, and moreover, it was built at a distance from the island as well.
(Could there be some meaning behind it?)
The most logical place to build a bridge would be from the spot closest to the island. If not that, then it should be placed somewhere convenient for everyone to use.
It was far from the shack where that old man lived too, so she couldn't see any real advantage to the current arrangement.
Maomao tilted her head as she studied the shrine. Having been left neglected for so many years, it was quite dilapidated. Only the shimenawa rope strung around it looked new. They were supposedly enshrin serpents, yet they'd planted snake-repelling leaves all around—Maomao thought the old man was rather eccentric.
Keiyo had begun mowing the grass with a humming tune, so Maomao reluctantly helped out.
Zhao had no intention of helping from the start and was picking up small stones, drawing pictures on the ground.
"Do you know something?"
Keiyo stopped humming and spoke to her, as if talking to himself.
"Know what?"
"About the role of the shrine maiden in this village."
As if she would know anything of the sort. Maomao shook her head.
"The old man told me about it—apparently, she was originally the daughter of a slave."
"..."
Keiyo continued in a voice only Maomao could hear.
"This place was originally prone to river flooding, it seems. Until proper flood control was established, every year the fields would wash away and houses would be swallowed by the floods."
When you think about what people in those ancient times would do to combat uncontrollable natural disasters...
"They would purchase slaves to offer as human sacrifices, of course. That was only when there was money to spare—when there wasn't, they probably just chose some girl from the village."
Shrine maiden in name only—really just a sacrifice.
But one day, a shrine maiden with divine powers appeared.
It was said that the shrine maiden walked and danced upon the surface of the water.
The villagers were awestruck and worshipped her. Then, the shrine maiden married into the village chief's household.
That was said to be the beginning of the shrine maiden's lineage.
(Gramps sure has gotten close to this kid.)
It was the first time Maomao had heard this story. On account of having some connection to the shrine maiden's lineage, Gramps probably knew about these kinds of tales.
"So basically. If you had no power as a shrine maiden, there was no telling when you'd be sacrificed, right?"
Whether it was a deity or a lord or whatever, being on the receiving end of a sacrifice couldn't have been pleasant.
"And just when you thought you might not end up as a sacrifice, you'd get sent off to the imperial harem instead."
In the end, rather than becoming the consort of the lake's master, she was sent to the master of the country instead.
(No wonder she'd never want to come back.)
Beyond that, one couldn't even blame her for holding a grudge.
Maomao gazed blankly at the surface of the water. Floating leaves trembled on the water near the lake's edge.
Some of the larger lotus leaves were big enough for a child to sit on, but surely she hadn't been dancing on top of one of those, Maomao was thinking idle thoughts like that when—
Maomao rose from her crouched position.
"What's wrong, Freckles?"
Zhao Yu peered down at Maomao.
Maomao ignored Zhao Yu and descended the stone steps. Then she looked at the old bridge. Not the top of the bridge, but the pillars beneath it.
They were covered in moss from being submerged in water, yet still sturdy enough that they hadn't rotted through.
"If you slack off, I'm telling on you!"
Keyou called out to Maomao, still holding the grass she had cut.
Maomao gave a sly grin.
"You're right. Let's get this over with quickly."
With that, she returned to her post.
"Give me the incense ingredients."
Those were the first words out of Maomao's mouth when she came back from the grass-cutting, addressing Gramps directly.
Grandpa was slurping away at his noodles, looking as though he were eating half of them along with his beard.
"I was wondering what you'd come up with. If the seeds haven't been planted, forget about it."
So saying, he chomped on the noodles with a wet, squelching sound.
Maomao had figured he would react that way, of course. She had a plan of her own.
"What if I told you I've figured out the identity of that curse-weaver?"
The moment Maomao whispered those words, Grandpa stopped chewing unpleasantly and set down his chopsticks.
"Hey, Kekyo. Go play with the kid for a bit."
He grabbed a ball from the shelf and tossed it to Kekyo. Kekyo tried to catch it and failed. The ball rolled outside the cabin, and Zhao You hurried after it.
Once they were alone, Grandpa pointed to a chair and gestured for Maomao to sit.
Maomao sat down and gazed out the window at the lake.
"The curse-weaver appeared around midsummer, didn't they?"
"That's right."
"The time when the rain weakens compared to now, and the rice paddies actually need water."
Basically, this region drew its field water from the lake. There was plenty of rain now, but the water level would keep dropping from here on out.
"That dance the shrine maiden was performing before — wasn't that around the same time of year?"
"...It seemed to be done as a rain-prayer ritual."
Grandpa looked like he wanted to say, "What does that have to do with anything?"
Maomao dipped her finger into the cup of tea Grandpa had half-heartedly set out and used the dampness to sketch a map on the table. The oval shape of the lake, a small island in the center, and a bridge.
Maybe it was hard to make out, because Grandpa quietly slid a brush and some paper toward her. The paper was rough and grainy, but probably still easier to read. She continued drawing on the paper.
Among her sketch, Maomao pointed to the stretch of shoreline closest to the island.
"They say the rain-prayer ceremony was held around here."
"That's correct."
It happened to be the spot visible from the window, not far from this cabin.
"Normally, you'd think building a bridge here would make more sense, wouldn't you? So why didn't they?"
Maomao asked the question with an exaggerated air of innocence.
"I don't know about that. More importantly, explain quickly."
Maomao grinned at her grandfather's words.
"Let's say, hypothetically, there's a place in the lake where the water is particularly deep. At first, you tried to build a bridge across that spot, but gave up partway through because the water got too deep for construction. The materials would be wasteful to abandon, but pulling them back out would require manpower too. So you left them there in the water and built a bridge somewhere else."
That would make the current bridge location the end result. Until then, they must have used boats to reach the shrine.
"What if the pillars sunk into that spot were still remaining in the lake?"
The wood used for bridges was a sturdy southern timber. If they used the same material, the pillars should still be down there in the water.
And they would only surface during the season when the lake's water level dropped to its lowest, appearing just barely above the waterline. If you walked across the tops of those pillars, it would look as though you were walking on the water itself. Fine adjustments to the water level could be managed by controlling the amount of water diverted into the rice paddies.
With the murky water and the floating weeds, you'd never notice the pillars unless you were right on top of them.
"They stopped sending boats out so that people wouldn't run into those pillars, didn't they?"
When the bridge was being built, they must have hired carpenters to do the work. To keep the villagers from learning about the half-baked bridge plan, they kept the existence of the pillars secret. And the shrine maiden of that era had made clever use of that fact.
The old man narrowed his eyes. He looked as though he had something to say.
"Did Luomen raise you to make such speculations?"
"I'd like to examine the lake to verify that speculation."
That was why she had told the old man all of this.
The old man glared at Maomao, then stood up and told her to follow.
"I can't say much about myself either, but you could use a bit more sentiment, you know."
The old man called out to the two who had been playing ball outside.
"Go buy something that'll work for supper."
He handed Keiyō a coin.
"Kid, this one's always getting taken for a ride. Sorry, but could you go along with her?"
"Sure, leave it to me."
Zhao Yu said that and followed after Keiyō.
"Let's go."
The old man set off with a broom in hand.
The place the old man brought her to was a section of the lake that was enclosed off. Floating weeds covered the surface. There was nowhere to sit for fishing, and nobody would willingly wade in.
Chapter X. The Stone Pillar of Sacrifice
Maomao grimaced at the muddy ground. She slipped off her shoes and hitched up her skirt, wading forward. The old man did the same, lifting his trousers as he walked.
The water was murky, and no pillar-like structure was visible.
"Here."
The old man held out the broom to Maomao. She skimmed the surface of the water with the handle.
Then—
Something struck the broom with a clink. Even through the handle, she could tell it was something quite hard. Not wood—it felt denser and heavier.
"The girls were sunk into this lake under the guise of being sacrifices. They were weighted down and dropped alive to the bottom."
Custom or not, it must have been horrifying for the villagers to witness. And yet here they were, performing the meaningless ritual of begging forgiveness for what they had done.
"So you drove stone pillars into the lake bed and used them as graves."
"..."
"Fools, aren't they? They couldn't bear to see the evidence of their own deeds, so they set the pillars at just barely below the water's surface—but the damn things kept growing higher and higher."
And after enough sacrifices were sunk, the gravestones finally reached the shrine.
"The next time a sacrifice was decided upon, the village chief's son told the girl about the existence of those gravestones."
And then, turning the legend of the Lake Lord against itself, she began to claim the title of priestess herself.
The previous village chief apparently hadn't known about this. Judging by the state of the village, Maomao doubted anyone besides this old man was aware of it even now.
Maomao glared at the old man.
"If you knew that much, then you must have a pretty good idea who the curse-weaver is."
He had known from the very beginning. And he had kept it all to himself. Maomao felt like a fool for having bothered to explain everything.
"I haven't seen their face, so I can't say for certain."
It most likely involved the former priestess who never returned from the inner palace. Her daughter, perhaps, or granddaughter—or someone who had heard the story secondhand.
Either way, it was none of Maomao's concern, and the old man seemed to treat it as something from the distant past.
Whether something had happened between him and that former priestess who was taken away to the inner palace long ago—
The salacious thought flickered through her mind for an instant, but she decided not to voice it. She really didn't want to be called emotionally detached one more time.
"If you start making any strange moves, I'll be happy to reveal the truth to everyone."
With that, the grandfather drew a cloth-wrapped package from within his robe. He handed it to Maomao.
"Consider this payment for your silence. Leave this matter to me."
The cloth bundle contained some sort of seeds. They were probably the seeds for that smoking herb.
"..."
If she was getting something she wanted, Maomao saw no need to say anything further.
Silently placing the seeds inside her own robe, she decided to return to the hut.