At this point a servant entered. "The sacred feast is prepared," he declared; "where shall it be served?" Master Leng drew in his breath through his teeth and reflected for a moment.

"Bring it to the Lotus Boat," he ordered. Then he arose and addressed Bonze Dan. "Will you step into the rear garden, dear priest, and partake of our meal?"

"Why, thanks a lot" replied our monk.

"Oh," said the young master sheepishly, I forgot to ask a second ago, but, well, will you dare to try a little meat or wine?"

"There's nothing against it in the Ten Precepts, now, is there?" answered Bonze Dan.

"No wonder you've grown so stout and tall," laughed Master Leng. "Well, come to think of it, it's a good thing you came to our little hamlet." And he ordered a servant to bring some ready-cooked fish and meat and to warm a vessel of wine, to be consumed with the ordinary "monks' food". "I have a rather mundane affair to take care of," he then told Bonze Dan, "so I'll take leave of you for the time being."

"Don't worry about it," answered our monk, "I'm really grateful for all this."

Thereupon Master Leng made his exit and Bonze Dan followed the servants along a serpentine path into the rear garden. Now, this garden had a fishpond several mu in size, and standing right in the middle were three junk-shaped pavillions, placed as if sailing in formation; lotuses were floating all around them. It being late autumn there weren't any blossoms, only some dead leaves strewn across the surface of the pool. On one of the pavillions was a horizontal stone tablet reading "The Lotus Boat", with an inscription by national examination third place medalist Feng Zhengti. By the water's edge were three large halls, surrounded by luxuriant bamboo. In front of these halls stood a "Moon Festival Pavillion", built out of large stones; it formed a pier, with a small rowboat of a ferry moored at its base.

The servants led our Bonze Dan down into the little boat, cast off the line and poled the vessel over to the great stone Lotus Boat Pavillion, where they helped him to disembark. Then, as before, they returned to shore. When Bonze Dan looked, why, sure enough it was just like a boat, with each compartment seperated by railings and bulkheads, and all were open to him.

On the first level was a room to seat a small number of guests, while on the next there were a few people at work behind the scenes arranging tables, chairs and utensils. Along the sides of the hall were spotted bamboo curtains hung from lacquered beams of bright vermillion. And on the third floor was a small chamber. Each of its walls had cool paper summer windows and a small bed was fixed in the center; obviously it was a bedroom. "He's invited me to a monk's feast," thought Bonze Dan ever so darkly, "but one can eat anywhere. Why did he have to take me out into the middle of this lake? I dare say he's afraid I might get away before I can 'enjoy' his 'favors'. It's easy to see that he's a nonbeliever! Why the nerve of him treating me like this! What does he think he's doing, ordering me to starve at sea?" But just then he hesitated, seeing two servants. One held covered serving plates and the other was poling that little boat back to the pavillion. Presently several courses were placed upon the table in the hall. There were bowls of dried and salted goose meat as well as pork shoulder and knuckles and fresh fish. Then there were bowls of dried bamboo shoot, beancurd deep fried with mushrooms, lentils and beanpaste. All told there were four vegetarian courses and four of meat. There was one large kettle of wine and a tin bowl of rice as well.

"Wow," shouted Bonze Dan as he scrambled over to the banquet table and began to slurp down the meal, indulging himself brashly. The domestics waited for him to finish, then they tidied up, wiped the table clean and waited.

"Where's your clan's leader," asked the monk, "I'd like to bid my farewells before leaving."

"We haven't heard from the Master," the servants replied; "we suppose he wants you to stay the night, eh?" The domestics then left the Lotus Boat Pavillion, leaving Bonze Dan alone to watch them pole the small boat back to shore. "Stay the night..." he repeated over and over, "What could he possibly have in mind? Well, I'll wait patiently and see what happens next."

Evening came and the two servants returned by the ferry carrying bedding and snacks for bedtime tea. One set up the tea and implored their guest to partake of the treats while the other made the bed and proclaimed the chamber fit for the night; they then once more left the Lotus Boat. "I'll get a fine night's sleep and hassle it out tomorrow," thought Bonze Dan before he nodded pleasantly off.

The night passed without incident. At daybreak the two servants returned with hot and cold water and set up a breakfast service, ever so carefully laying forth two dishes each, vegetarian and meat.

"I've done nothing to deserve such a feast," said Bonze Dan; "I really must leave now!"

"Our master still has a few things he'd like to discuss with you," answered the servants. "He can't find any free time just now so he's told us to take good care of you and not to hurt your feelings. You're to stay and enjoy yourself for a few days."

Bonze Dan was nonetheless irritated and he began to show it. "If your master has something to say, why not come right out and tell me what it's all about? Then at least my mind will be at ease during my stay."

"How can we mere subordinates understand what's on our master's mind? Are you afraid of the dark? Want some companionship? You needn't hold back... just tell us and the woman or girl of your desires is yours; that's a small matter. Why, last year our master entertained an Original Nature Daoist right here in this pavillion, where he lectured on your yin yang modulation sorcery. He needed a girl every night, so our master called over some real professionals to satisfy his desire and lecherous tastes. The things he did to those women, and to think, he continued the bedlam for over a month before moving on to Luoyang! He said something about returning this year, but thank heavens, we've seen neither hide nor hair of him so far."

"I've got no intention of violating my vows of chastity," said Bonze Dan, "and I assure you I'm not afraid of the dark! But there is one thing. If I may further intrude on our master's graces, could I possibly be free to leave the pavillion and wander around in the garden? That would really help me feel better."

One of the servants pointed to the mansions on shore and spoke: "Master's new bride lives in a new room behind that building. Aside from her maids and personal attendants no outsiders are allowed in there." Bonze Dan took this in silence.

Now to digress for awhile let's get back to young Master Leng. Although his family was old, distinguished and wealthy, lechery and drunkeness weren't among its vices. But there was a family Courtyard of Immortality, and a certain weakness for sorcerers, wizards and witches and their heterodox crafts. As for the Courtyard, acclaimed sorcerers were brought there from all over the land; all were welcome. Now it so happened that, a few days before Bonze Dan's arrival, the eldest son of the neighboring county's Privy Councillor Wang sent over a man with his personal recommendation, named Feng Jingyan. He claimed that he could see the spirits with his own eyes and that he had supernatural skill at sorcery. How formidable soundling!

In Han times a sorcerer was said to have carved wooden men with clubs and buried them in the ground. Then at night he would sacrifice, and curse whomever he wished to destroy. The wooden men would come alive, leave their resting place in the earth, and attack that person. And during the last years of the Tang there was Gao Pian's lieutenant, Lu Hongzhi, who served at the time of Huang Chao's revolt when Heaven withdrew its favor of the Dynasty. Why, he cast a small statue of his boss, covered its eyes and ears, placed it in a wicker box and buried it under his bed. Then he used it to place a spell on the trusted General Gao, making him sick and disoriented under his exclusive control.

The wizardry of our present-day Feng Jingyan, however, is yet another thing entirely. When he wishes to haunt somebody he merely sets up a sacrificial altar in some secluded place, then he offers up something to the spirits. Next, he draws a large circle on the earth before the altar. In the circle he places a porcelain jar containing the accursed one's full name, native district and year, month, day and exact time of birth. Then he writes and chants his magic charms at the altar, and snatches up the living hun essence of the unfortunate individual's soul. If he doesn't succeed at once he continues for three, five, even seven days. When the hun essence is finally captured it's only fourteen inches long with a face and bearing no different from those of its unfortunate owner. Then, if he were to enter the chalk circle and snatch up the little fellow and place it together with a spirit tablet into the jar, and if he were to seal it up and bury it, the afflicted owner would up and die without delay. Here's a poem:

Now, the lines of this poem indicate that life and death are fated by Heaven. If some evil spirit is invoked to cause a death, there is still the matter of the victim's fated allotment of days remaining unfulfilled. Folk proverbs such as "A curse on the devil" written at the coffin's head say it well. And there's another famous saying: "Better an untimely death than a life filled with hatred". But if a person is so blessed as to have happily lived out all of their alloted days, even a direct hit by a thunderclap won't awaken them from the slumber of death. And if one's fated days aren't so long or if one is destined to die young, it wouldn't be fitting to consider such a fate tragic, or to honor such a person with a memorial. That's just the way things go. But enough of this prattle!

Now, Young Master Leng had heard that Feng Jingyan was expert at sorcery and was eager to learn from him, but as of yet he had no idea if the man's legendary skills were for real. So encountering Bonze Dan, a freebooting monk without any kin, he coldheartedly invited him into his home with the hope of using him in a test of Feng's magic. He'd already learnt our monk's name and native district but there was still one small problem: the year and month of his birth were known, but not the date or exact time. And so he sent a man over to fetch Feng Jingyan so that they could discuss this.

"If you don't know the time of birth," advised Feng, "an article of his clothing and a sample of his hair or fingernails will do just as well."

"That's easy," said Master Leng. And he instructed his servants to take some cloth and make a new garment for the monk. On the pretext that their family patriarch would be angered if the bonze's clothes weren't clean he also ordered the old garment taken away, cleaned and starched afresh. Then he told a barber to give our monk a haircut and shampoo and to preserve the clippings without fail.

Now, Bonze Dan took these as kind favors and happily accepted. In fact, even the servants didn't know what was on their master's mind. And so they told him to discard his lower garment and took it together with some of his hair to young Master Leng, who was exceedingly thrilled with his success. Then he and Feng Jingyan went off to a rice warehouse on the east side of the estate where they prepared an altar in accordance with Daoist lore, complete with paper horses, incense candles and the like.

They then assigned two of the youngest servants to guard the place, to keep the door locked and prepare three meals daily. And should any servants or kinsmen call, the pages were to open the lock and receive them politely and apologetically, under no conditions letting them inside for a peek. Such was was the secrecy that neither man nor beast nor even fowl could know of it!

But it came to pass that Feng Jingyan was unable to inflict a spell of death upon our monk, although certainly not through any lack of enthusiastic effort. Of course he was in for a grand reward if he could present Master Leng with some proof of of his claims. Anyway, here's what happened!

He took a broad sheet of paper and wrote a supernatural command on it, to snatch up the living "hun" essence of one Bonze Dan of Sizhou who had taken his vows at Yinghui Temple on that city's Mt Yinghui and who was fated to wander into this place. Then he gathered up some hair clippings into a neat little package and wrote down some hun pursuit charms on the garment that our monk had worn against his flesh. These he placed together in a clean vase. In front of the altar he took some lime and made a large circle; in it he put the above urn and its contents. Then Feng Jingyan burned incense thrice daily and prayed nightly before the altar, writing charms and chanting. He treaded the cosmic winds of High Heaven and stood within the Holy Palace of the Polestar until the second or third watch of every night.

Now, this was all without effect until the third night, when Bonze Dan began to feel a slight headache and temperature. By the fifth day he was stricken and bedridden. Then Feng Jingyan noticed some black ethereal substance beginning to swirl outside the circle, and at once he knew it to be the restless, drifting hun essence of Bonze Dan's soul. Next day, he sent young Master Leng to check up on the monk. Hearing that Bonze Dan had been stricken, he then applied all of his skill and wisdom, and redoubled his efforts with genuine enthusiam.

After sunset on the seventh day the movements of that black essence of soul became increasingly agitated, swirling like a tiny tornado on the border of the chalk circle. Then finally, by the third watch, sure enough it congealed into the form of a midget Bonze Dan, only fourteen inches tall, now advancing, now retreating, hovering just outside the circle. Now Feng Jingyan, eyes bright with excitement, picked up his wand and waved it threateningly toward the altar table, incanting:

And then saying no more he only watched in horror and amazement as the miniature Bonze Dan dove into the circle and began to bore like a drill right into the sealed urn. This was going too far! And as soon as the dervish pentrated the vase a sudden dark squall arose at the altar, with the flashing and crashing of lightning and thunder. The vessel then shattered, and at that very moment fresh blood spurted from the mouth of Feng Jingyan who then fell dead before the altar. The poor fool! His entire pathetic life spent as a sorcerer, and he kills himself without ever having successfully harmed anyone. Indeed, he was the victim of his own magic, and here's a poem about it: