The Iron Tree

The setting sun hung in the sky like fire, its redness staining the clouds on the horizon and glowing against Li Sui’s profile.

She was sitting sideways on the horse, leaning against her father’s back, her head bent in focused study of her new body.

It was still a woman’s body. Just older than the last one, and uglier.

The black cloth on her shoulder marked her identity—one of the Fa Sect believers who had ambushed Li Huowang.

She had chosen a woman for only one reason: a skirt could hide her dog’s head and four limbs.

She could have slipped back into her father’s body, like before. But after what had happened last time, she was scared. Scared that if she squeezed back inside, she might not be able to get out again. That would hurt him. She didn't want to hurt him.

When she felt the horse stop, Li Sui cautiously poked her head out from behind her father and saw a cluster of buildings blocking the way.

“It’ll be dark soon. We’ll stay at this post station for the night. Tomorrow we ride hard to Yinling!”

When the stationmaster and his runners came out and saw the Supervisor’s tally plaque held high by Fo Yulu, they went pale. They snapped to attention and scrambled to serve with every ounce of effort they had.

This was the kind of guest who could kill them. More dangerous than a dispatch-rider carrying an eight-hundred-li urgent message.

As night fell, good wine and good food were prepared and laid out. The serving staff were thoughtful enough to prepare vegetarian dishes for the three monks.

Seated on a stool, Li Sui held a single chopstick in each hand and watched as the others used the two wooden sticks with practiced ease.

She had never learned how to use those things. In the past, she had just swallowed.

“Eat an egg. You don’t need chopsticks for an egg.” Beside her, Li Huowang was drinking a big bowl of mutton soup. He reached over and tore the black cloth from Li Sui’s shoulder.

She nodded lightly, picked up a shell-on egg from the plate, and—under the stunned gaze of the stationmaster—swallowed a dozen of them whole, one after the other, without chewing, like a giant snake.

She didn’t actually like eggs. They had no flavor at all. After taking the edge off her hunger, she stood up and wandered through the station like a curious child, examining every unfamiliar piece of furniture with intense fascination.

Her wandering brought her to a window. Through it, she looked out at the neighboring county town. She watched the flow of people on the streets with eyes full of curiosity. It looked lively over there.

She glanced back at her father, who was talking to the bald monk again. Then she walked out the door. Her father was going to sleep here. She just had to be back before bedtime.

The moment she entered the county town, the festive atmosphere hit her, and she broke into a delighted smile. She loved crowds.

“Is it New Year again? I love New Year.”

“We just had New Year. How could it be New Year again? This is a festival,” a passerby piped up.

“A festival! Festivals are fun too!” Li Sui walked through the crowd, watching the street scenes around her.

There were many people out tonight, and just as many street performers. Over here, men on stilts; over there, a fire-breather. It was wonderfully lively.

She walked and walked until everyone stopped in front of the city wall, standing quietly in the darkness, waiting.

“What’s happening? What is it?” Li Sui asked the people around her, full of curiosity.

“Shh. They’re striking the tree. Settle down.”

Just as Li Sui was wondering what “striking the tree” meant, she saw an old man in a straw hat. His sheepskin coat was worn backwards, and his face was pinched with sorrow. He carried a bucket of molten iron over to the wall.

He hurled a ladleful of the molten iron against the wall.

A shower of pearl-sized red droplets smashed against the blackened brick.

Crackle.

Clusters of golden fire burst into bloom, spreading along the wall and scattering into the dark air, forming a single, enormous, brilliantly dazzling golden tree.

“Wooow! Striking the tree is so beautiful!” Li Sui’s eyes lit up, and she gasped along with everyone else in the crowd.

Blossom after blossom vanished and burst anew, and Li Sui watched, utterly entranced. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

When the tree stopped appearing, the crowd finally dispersed with a mix of regret and satisfaction.

“A fine tree. But it lacks something. A scene like this must have sound and color, accompanied by song and dance. Only then can it be the furnace blazing heaven and earth, red stars scattering purple smoke; the swarthy man in the moonlit night, his song stirring the cold river…” A scholar went by, shaking his head and reciting.

Li Sui couldn’t be bothered to figure out what he was saying. Her mind was full of something else.

She wanted to learn how to strike the tree, so she could show her father and mother! Something this beautiful must be something they had never seen!

“Can you tell me how to strike the tree? I want to show my dad!” Li Sui ran to the city wall and blocked the old man’s path.

But he didn’t even lift his eyelids. “I don’t teach girls!”

When he tried to walk around her, bucket in hand, she blocked him again. “Why not? Why can’t you teach me?”

“You little girl! You—!” The old man’s head snapped up. When the distant lamplight illuminated her face, his eyes went wide with shock.

“Nier?Nier?!” The old man’s hands rose—rough, scarred, covered with fresh burns and blisters—and trembled as they gripped Li Sui’s shoulders.

“Just teach me, please. The tree is so beautiful. My dad would love it.”

The wrinkled face beneath the straw hat could hold itself together no longer. Tears streamed down.

Then he nodded with all his strength and said, in a quavering voice, “I’ll teach! I’ll teach you everything! Whatever you want to learn, your dad will teach you!”

“Really? That’s great! How do you learn to strike the tree? From a book?”

“Come, come, come with me!” The old man pulled Li Sui along, hurrying excitedly toward his home.

Soon, she followed him to a mud-brick house. The old man pushed the door open in his excitement and shouted inside, “Wife! Wife! Look! Look who’s come home!”

An old woman with squinting eyes was carefully threading a needle by a single candle. She wet the tip of the thread between her lips, then tucked it behind her ear, into her salt-and-pepper hair. “Who is it? Who’s here?”

As she spoke, she turned around and finally got a clear look at Li Sui’s face. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief.

Li Sui smiled and nodded at her. “I’m here to learn how to strike the tree from him.”

The old woman slapped her knees, burst into tears, and ran to throw herself onto Li Sui. She beat her chest and wailed in a singsong rhythm. “Wuuu… my… Nier… Aiyee… Wuuu… bitter fate…”

Li Sui couldn’t understand what the woman was saying, but she recognized the tone. It was the same way the Wu Family Opera Troupe sang.

She turned to look at the old man, who was wiping tears from his eyes, and asked, “Do I have to do this to learn how to strike the tree?”