Chapter 8 Wangqiu City

　　—To obtain something, one must first pay a price; when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.

　　Su Ziqi and the other two women continued eating the fieryred fruit, chatting intermittently. Huamei inquired of the native about the location of the tribal settlement. No one present noticed Dong Yifeng’s absence.

　　At that moment the camelhorse tethered nearby suddenly grew restless, neighing repeatedly and circling the tree.

　　Then, faintly at the edge of their hearing, came the intermittent sound of an infant’s cry—soft, intermittent, drifting and elusive. At first everyone assumed it was auditory illusion and wondered how an infant could exist in this forest.

　　The native, however, reacted as though confronting a mortal enemy. He sprang to his feet, oriented himself, and dashed toward the mound.

　　Puzzled, the others followed, eager to learn the cause.

　　Upon the mound they were astonished to see a person lying on the ground with a beast beside him.

　　Looking more carefully at the figure among the flowers, they realized it was Dong Yifeng.

　　Beside him stood a ferocious beast that, across Dong’s prone form, bared its fangs and snarled at the native.

　　The creature was spotted like a leopard yet far larger, trailing a thick tail. Most remarkable of all, two great antlers, like those of an elk, rose from its head.

　　Huamei drew a laser pistol and prepared to fire, but Wang Yue restrained him.

　　Studying the beast more closely, Huamei discerned something unusual.

　　In the space of a few blinks the animal’s expression shifted like the rapid facechanging of Sichuan opera: from initial ferocity and rage it suddenly turned fearful, and finally its eyes grew somewhat dazed and vacant.

　　The thick tail that had been held high now tucked between its legs; it crouched submissively upon the ground, docile as a large cat.

　　The native approached, stroked its head; from its nostrils came another infantlike cry. Then it wheeled about and fled into the distance.

　　Only then did everyone breathe freely. The native too seemed greatly relieved, wiping sweat from his forehead.

　　A cool breeze swept the mound, dispersing their earlier fear. Yet the native, as though a woman newly delivered and fearful of drafts, repeatedly tugged the yellow linen headcloth lower until it completely covered his forehead.

　　Huamei strode to Dong Yifeng, helped him up, and examined him for injury. Finding none, the company finally relaxed, though they remained puzzled by his continued unconsciousness.

　　Near the mound grew grasses bearing yellow blossoms; their leaves were round, the edges apparently thorny.

　　The native plucked one yellow flower, brought it to Dong’s nose, and let him inhale.

　　Miraculously, within moments Dong regained awareness. Opening his eyes and finding everyone gathered around him, he looked bewildered.

　　When they recounted what had occurred, memory returned: “I saw these flowers from a distance and grew curious. I climbed the mound, plucked one, and smelled it—then I knew nothing more.”

　　All exclaimed at his good fortune in not having been devoured by the beast.

　　Dong, however, remained characteristically lighthearted and even regretted missing the sight of the creature: “What a pity! I lost the chance to observe this monster with my own eyes. I wonder whether I shall ever see it again.”

　　The others could not suppress smiles, privately wondering whether Dong was slightly unhinged—heedless of his own life so long as he might discover a new species.

　　The native stood nearby, listening. Though he ought not to have understood their speech, at times he nodded as though he comprehended, which aroused Su Ziqi’s curiosity.

　　She approached him and began conversing, adapting herself to his language.

　　When he failed to understand, she continually shifted among the vocabularies of Earth’s various ancient tongues until communication became possible.

　　“What are those fivecolored flowers?” she asked. “And what animal was that fierce beast just now?”

　　“Many of the plants in this forest are poisonous,” the native replied. “My mother told me in childhood that the more beautiful the flower, the greater its toxicity—just as the more beautiful the woman, the more likely she is to deceive. That fivecolored blossom is as lovely as the sevenhued clouds of heaven, yet we call it ‘ThreeStepsFall.’ Merely smell it beside the nose and one cannot take three steps before collapsing.

　　“We also have many maneating beasts. The animal just now is called an ‘Infant Leopard.’ It lures attention with the cry of a baby, then strikes when the victim is off guard.”

　　“And the yellow flower can neutralize the poison?” Su Ziqi asked.

　　“Correct. The yellow flower grows beside the ThreeStepsFall and precisely counters its toxin.”

　　Using the translation device in his ear, Dong could follow the exchange and nodded in agreement: “This accords perfectly with the principle that all things generate and restrain one another.” He then walked to the yellow blossoms and plucked one for closer examination.

　　Curious about the sudden flight of the beast, Su Ziqi asked: “That Infant Leopard looked extremely fierce. Why did it suddenly flee?”

　　The native blinked cunningly: “The Infant Leopard is indeed ferocious and fond of human flesh. Yet I understand the language of beasts and can communicate with it; therefore it will not harm us.”

　　“What? You understand the language of beasts?” Dong exclaimed in astonishment.

　　Recalling the animal’s reaction, the others realized it had not fled merely because of their numbers.

　　The beast had scarcely glanced at those standing behind the native; only after exchanging a look with him had it tucked its tail and run.

　　Gifted in languages, Su Ziqi rapidly adapted to the native’s speech; conversation between them grew steadily smoother.

　　The native inquired after the names of Su Ziqi and the others; she in turn asked about his clan.

　　From his account they learned that his people were the Gongyou Clan, dwelling in the largest forest upon the continent of Mu—the Nanyu Forest, their tribal territory.

　　The Gongyou Clan consisted of five tribes. Its chieftain was named Gongdian, who had two sons and two daughters; Gongkong was the chieftain’s adopted son.

　　Wang Yue, intrigued by the native’s extensive astronomical knowledge, asked Su Ziqi to inquire into its source.

　　“It was taught to us by the celestial gods we serve,” he answered.

　　The reply left them deeply puzzled. What exactly were these “celestial gods” of which the native spoke? Did true gods exist in his world? Every word he uttered filled them with curiosity and doubt.

　　Beside the stream near their resting place grew purple blossoms with square stems and red fruit. The native plucked one bearing fruit and presented it to Su Ziqi.

　　She looked at the flower with delight: “How did you know I like purple flowers?”

　　He smiled knowingly: “This is the Beauty Flower. The girls of our land all favor it, for every part possesses virtue: worn in the hair it repels all insects; eaten, the fruit makes one ever more beautiful.”

　　Hearing this, Zheng Ya and Wang Yue hurried over to pick the purple blossoms themselves.

　　Zheng Ya, arms full of the flowers and face blooming with smiles, teased: “Unsolicited attentions are never without ulterior motive. Little sister Ziqi, has this native taken a fancy to you and means to carry you off as a mountainstronghold bride? You had best be careful.”

　　The native appeared to understand and showed no embarrassment; instead he gazed at Su Ziqi with even more unrestrained interest and urged: “Honored celestial gods, the hour grows late; let us continue our journey.”

　　He vaulted onto his camelhorse and raced ahead. The flying craft followed along the trail.

　　Deeper into the dense forest the ancient trees towered skyward, their crowns blotting out the sun. The trunks grew ever more massive—centuries or even millenniaold giants that left Dong clicking his tongue in awe.

　　Ahead the path turned right and suddenly opened onto a level expanse. Opposite stood a city, a river flowing before its main gate, the drawbridge raised high.

　　Looking closely they saw walls more than ten meters high encircling the mountains.

　　The native reined in, turned, and regarded them: “Wangqiu City. Welcome to our clan.”

　　Everyone leapt from the craft. Huamei parked it among the dense undergrowth and activated ecological cloaking; the vessel vanished from sight.

　　Leading the camelhorse by the reins, the native walked toward the gate; the others followed.

　　As they went he explained: “Wangqiu City was founded by the ancestors of our clan. Our celestial gods, seeing that this place nestled against mountains and water—hills neither high nor discontinuous, and the trees upon them of enormous size—commanded our forefathers to build a city here.”

　　Looking toward the mountains they saw what appeared to be vast trees covering the slopes, yet no buildings were visible upon the ground. They wondered where the city’s inhabitants actually lived. In the trees themselves?

　　The main gate stood at the foot of the mountain. Upon the wall a yellow banner embroidered with a bluegreen dragon fluttered conspicuously in the wind.

　　Sentinels upon the ramparts, recognizing the native, gladly lowered the drawbridge by cable; the gate guards opened the doors.

　　The native led the company into the city.