White Horse Neighing in the West Wind – Chapter 20
Translation by Jenxi Seow
Li Wenxiu thought to herself, “Everyone here follows the Muslim faith, so how is it that the labyrinth contains both Buddha statues and Han Chinese figures? And the writing on the walls is all in Han script. How very strange indeed.”
The seven passed from one chamber to the next. Most of the halls and palaces had fallen into ruin, and some were filled to the doors with yellow sand. The passages within the labyrinth were already bewilderingly complex and tortuous, and with collapsed walls and sand-blocked doorways, it was enough to make anyone lose their bearings entirely. Occasionally a few white skeletons appeared in the corridors, but the furnishings and implements in the chambers were not at all the sort found in Huijiang, and Li Wenxiu dimly recalled that these were ordinary objects from the Central Plains. Everyone looked on, dazzled and marvelling, but of the legendary gold, silver, and jewels there was not a single trace.
The seven walked forward along a dark, shadowy corridor when suddenly a hollow voice called out from ahead, “I have dwelt here in peace for a thousand years. None have dared disturb me. Which of you bold fools dares approach? You will die on the spot!” The words were in Kazakh, the pronunciation pure and correct. The voice was not loud, yet every syllable was perfectly clear.
Aman cried in alarm, “It’s an evil ghost! He… he says he’s lived here a thousand years!” She clutched Supu’s hand and retreated several steps. Camel shouted, “That’s a man, not a ghost!” He raised his torch high and strode forward. Sangser, unwilling to be outdone, caught up to walk beside him. They had just rounded a corner when both men let out simultaneous screams and came flying backwards. The others were greatly alarmed. Su Luke and Che’erku threw aside their torches and rushed forward to help. From ahead came a cackling, eerie laugh. The voice bellowed, “I have dwelt here a thousand years. A thousand years. Everyone who enters dies.”
Che’erku lingered no longer. Clutching Camel, he turned and fled. Su Luke gathered up Sangser, and the rest followed. The cackling laughter filled the corridor. They reached an open courtyard where daylight filtered down, and looked at Camel and Sangser. Blood was flowing from the corners of both their mouths. They were dead. The five stared at one another, gripped by grief and terror alike.
Aman said, “The evil ghost won’t let us… let us disturb this place. Let’s get out of here quickly!”
At this point, where was Su Luke or Che’erku about to play the brave? Cradling the two corpses, they followed the marks they had scratched earlier and made their way back out of the labyrinth.
Che’erku had lost two of his favourite disciples and could not stop wiping his tears. Su Luke, for once, made no mockery but instead offered words of comfort, adding, “Those two Han bandits went into the labyrinth and haven’t been seen since. The evil ghosts in the palace must have killed them too. Good. Serves those villains right.”
Aman said, “Let’s go back the way we came, and never… never come to this place again.”
Che’erku said, “Our tribesmen will be here with a large force soon. We must warn them. No one is to enter that palace, or they’ll all meet a terrible end.”
Su Luke said, “Right! So long as we stay outside the labyrinth, we’re… we’re safe.”
Whether they truly were safe, no one could say. To be on the safe side, the five retreated six or seven li until they reached a broad stretch of open ground, and only then did they stop. Su Luke said, “Evil ghosts fear the sun. To cross this open ground you’d have to be exposed to daylight.”
Aman asked, “What about at night?”
Su Luke scratched his head, unable to answer.
***
Fortunately night had not yet fallen when the first group of reinforcements arrived. Su Luke and the others quickly told them about discovering the labyrinth and the evil ghosts that killed within it.
Though there were many people now and courage grows with numbers, no one proposed going in to explore. Two shichen1 later, the second and third groups arrived in turn. Several hundred people camped on the open ground. For every ten or so of them they lit a great bonfire, reasoning that however fierce the ghosts might be, they would surely fear so many flames.
Li Wenxiu leaned against a boulder and thought, “My father and mother travelled ten thousand li from the Central Plains to these Western Regions, all to find the Gaochang Labyrinth. They never found it, and lost their lives. But even if they had, they would most likely have been killed by the evil ghosts within, unless they heard the ghost’s voice and retreated at once. But with my parents’ martial arts, surely they wouldn’t have feared a ghost. Alas, however great a person’s skill, how can it prevail against ghosts and monsters?”
Suddenly came soft footsteps behind her. Someone walked over and called in a low voice, “Axiu.”
Li Wenxiu was overjoyed. She leapt up and cried, “Grandpa Ji, you’ve come too!”
Old Man Ji said, “I was worried about you, so I followed the others to keep an eye on you.”
Li Wenxiu was deeply moved. She took his hand and said, “The road is hard going. You’re so old, and you must be exhausted. Sit down and rest.”
Old Man Ji had barely sat down beside her when from the west came several sharp, piercing owl cries, horribly grating on the ear. Everyone instinctively turned to look. They saw a white, shapeless mass charging swiftly out of the darkness. When it was some four zhang2 away, it suddenly reared upright and stood motionless. It was roughly human in shape, but in the firelight they could see it was draped in a white shroud, its face covered in blood, the white robe also drenched and streaming with crimson. Its figure was enormous, at least five chi3 taller than an ordinary man. Seen in the still of the night, it was unspeakably terrifying. Suddenly the ghost thrust both hands forward. Its ten fingernails were longer than its fingers, and its hands too were drenched in blood.
Everyone held their breath and watched him in utter silence.
The ghost cackled its eerie laugh and said in a shrill voice, “I have lived in the labyrinth a thousand years. I will not allow anyone to disturb me. Who told you to be so bold?” It spoke Kazakh, the very same voice Li Wenxiu had heard in the labyrinth that day. The ghost turned slowly, raised both hands towards a horse standing three zhang away, and cried, “Die!” Then it wheeled about and strode off, vanishing in moments.
The ghost had appeared and disappeared with shocking suddenness, its presence so overwhelming that only after it had been gone a long while did the crowd begin to cry out. They looked at the horse the ghost had pointed at. It collapsed on all four knees, rolled over, and was dead. The crowd rushed over to examine it. The horse bore not a single mark on its body, and no blood flowed from its nose or mouth. Yet somehow it had been struck dead by sorcery.
Everyone said, “It’s a ghost. A ghost.”
One person said, “I always knew there were ghosts in the great desert.”
Another said, “The labyrinth has been sealed for a thousand years, so of course there are ghosts guarding it.”
Yet another said, “I’ve heard ghosts have no feet. Let’s see if that one left footprints.”
They took torches and followed the ghost’s path. On the sand, every five chi or so, was a small round hole, too fine for a human footprint, and the distance between them far too great for any person’s stride.
After that, no one had any further doubts. All were convinced that the ghosts of the labyrinth were at work, and everyone said, “No matter how precious the things in that labyrinth, we can’t have them. Tomorrow at first light, we all go back.”
Everyone spent the night in fear and trembling. But when the sun rose the next morning, suddenly each person’s heart felt rather less afraid. Some of the younger men discussed going to have a look at the labyrinth. Su Luke and Che’erku sternly forbade it, saying that if they were to go to the labyrinth at all, they must first devise a proper plan.
But after debating the whole day, with seven mouths talking at cross-purposes and no end of opinions, what good plan could anyone devise? The only result was that everyone agreed to spend one more night here and discuss the matter again tomorrow.
Near the hour of hai4, the very time the ghost had appeared the previous night, three more sharp owl cries rang out from the west, and everyone’s hair stood on end. They saw the white-robed, long-legged, blood-splattered ghost approaching swiftly once again. It halted at a distance of several zhang and said in its shrill voice, “You still haven’t gone back? Hmph. Stay one more night near this place, and one by one you’ll all come to a bad end. I have lived in the palace a thousand years, and no one has dared enter. How dare you be so bold?” With that, it turned slowly, raised both hands towards a young man in the distance, and cried, “Die!” Having spoken those three words, it suddenly wheeled about and strode off into the moonlight, growing ever smaller until it disappeared.
They watched as the young man slowly crumpled, without a word, and was dead. Again, not a single mark upon his body. The night before, the ghost had killed only a horse. Tonight it had taken the life of a strong young man.
After that, who dared remain? Especially when they had heard from Su Luke and Che’erku that there were no treasures in the labyrinth at all, not a single piece of gold or silver. If it had not been dark, everyone would have fled back along the road they came. At first light the next morning, the crowd set off in a great tumultuous rush.