Volume 1, Chapter 15: Bandit Cant

The old hunter stepped forward and knocked on the door. The noise inside abruptly ceased.

“Mushroom, what vine?” (Who’s there? What’s your name?)

“Patch Vine.” (Surname Feng.)

“Mahama.” (It’s too dark, I can’t see you clearly; are you asking what business I have here?)

“Dung beetle.” (A country bumpkin.)

“Put down the wrist.” (Put the gun down.)

“Close the fire.” (Don’t shoot.)

After the old hunter’s reply, silence fell inside. Half a minute passed before he knocked loudly again and said, “No time for chit-chat. Tell your boss Feng Er is here.”

At that moment, the wooden door swung open. A man wearing a dog fur hat flashed a flattering smile. “Ah, ah, Second Master, it’s been ages! If you’re coming, just sign right up and give us brothers a scare.”

With that, the man in the thick fur hat turned and called out, “Boys, the Second Master is here! Bring out the good wine and warm it up.”

The old hunter showed no expression. He pushed the hat aside with his gun and strode in. We followed him. Passing by the man with the dog fur hat, the man sniffed hard, as if trying to catch our scent.

Inside the room were seven or eight peculiar figures: a dwarf, a mute, a man without legs, a blind man with eyes rolled back, a short, stout man with a black beard resembling Li Kui, a braid-wearing man donning a round cap, and by the counter, a buck-toothed woman who seemed a bit slow-witted.

Judging by appearances, only the buck-toothed woman looked somewhat young, around thirty; the others ranged from thirty to forty, none older than fifty.

“Yo, the Second Master is here.”

“Second Master, please sit and rest your feet.”

“What wind blew the Second Master to this neck of the woods?”

The people inside greeted the old hunter warmly, but seemed to ignore us entirely.

The old hunter swept his gaze around and said, “Sitdown Pao, you’ve grown again.”

Everyone laughed heartily. The man without legs straightened his back, grinning, “That’s right, an extra foot every year. In two years, I’ll be playing basketball.”

...

Though the inside crowd greeted the old hunter warmly, Master Ma and I were nearly frozen in smiles. No one spoke to us; when they looked our way, their expressions shifted from flattering to fierce and hostile.

A chill ran down my spine. Before entering, the old hunter spoke in bandit code—words only used when he had a beard. Both he and the people inside were well-versed in this outlaw jargon. Clearly, these were no ordinary folks; I might have just walked into a bandit den.

Looking around at them, I felt like Xu Xian entering a place half a step into the supernatural. Were these demons and monsters?

After some small talk, the man in the dog fur hat suddenly changed his expression. “Second Master, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“What? Trouble?”

“Haunted. We’re just waiting for the Second Master to come and sort it out.”

The old hunter looked at Master Ma and me and said, “These two are also insiders, going into the mountains to gather herbs—our own kind.”

Only then did their faces relax as they looked at us. The man in the dog fur hat said, “All guests are welcome. Bring the wine and food.”

The buck-toothed woman suddenly stiffened like a machine starting up, pulled back the curtain, and entered a room.

I took this chance to survey the so-called tavern.

To the left was a counter with shelves holding wine jars and strings of garlic and chili peppers. On the right was a large kang bed-stove, about seven to eight meters wide, with bedding scattered messily on top.

In the center were two wooden tables, littered with wine jars, bowls, and shelled peanuts.

Straight ahead were four rooms partitioned by wooden planks, each with a thick door curtain like a quilt hanging over the doorway.

The old hunter pointed to Master Ma and said, “You mentioned ghosts earlier. Let me introduce everyone: Master Ma is a spirit medium. He’s come to the mountains seeking medicinal roots and just happens to arrive amid your troubles.”

Master Ma cupped his hands in greeting. I straightened my back, waiting for the old hunter to introduce me, but he said no more.

Putting aside good or bad, I admired the old hunter. He carried himself with such presence wherever he went—always a lord, and most importantly, respected.

He continued, “Master Ma has skills. Once he’s had a drink, he can treat any illness or disaster you have.”

At these words, relief washed over everyone’s faces. The old hunter paused, asking, “What happened? This time it’s serious?”

The man in the dog fur hat swallowed and said, “Se-Second Master, this time it’s the big soy sauce jar that’s haunted.”

A group of older men gathered around the table, telling the spirit medium about the haunted soy sauce jar. They sipped white liquor to warm their stomachs, munched on peanuts, while the air was filled with the aroma of chicken stewed with mushrooms.

They drank, and I salivated at the fragrant stew, listening as the man in the dog fur hat recounted the tale with a grave face.