On the First Day Following the Rains

On the first day after the first spring rains, an auspicious day, Junior Provincial Minister of Ceremony Zhang Lin observed the establishment of the proper rites to call upon the great slumbering dragon of the Shouli River. A great train of ministers, priests, scholars, scribes, soldiers, and workmen had spent all evening erecting an impromptu temple upon the shores of the river’s source, and now as the sun set and the stars gazed down from a clear sky, Zhang Lin felt the first twinge of hope in six months.

Rocks had been cleared from the deep pooling lake that served as the riverhead, and upon the grassy shore four pillars had been erected. Braziers, mounted on each, smoked with fragrant incense, which mingled with the smell of petrichor and the hazy mist of the lake. With daylight fading, great bonfires were established at the south, east, and west of the clearing, leaving the north free to face the river-lake and the twin waterfalls which plunged from the heights of the mountains beyond to feed it.

The Minister walked the temple, first circumscribing its boundaries, then paying close attention to the arrangement of each feature within. The priests and workmen had done their job well; all was orderly and in accord with the ancient rites. It had been a very long time since the people had called upon the dragon – no one in living memory had attempted it, and Zhang Lin would not go down in history as the man who failed in this time of need.

He found the chief priest speaking with the three Calling Maidens, who stood apart from the rest on the shore of the lake. Between them, a wide, shallow brass bowl all but heaped over with offerings: bounteous fruits, freshly-roasted meats prepared on the temple grounds just hours ago, and smoldering sticks of incense, all piled around a masterfully-worked golden statue of the Great Sage.

All four bowed low at his approach, the priest with his hands in the sleeves of his robe and the maidens with their palms upon their thighs. A small hand cymbal, dangling from the priest’s waistband from a strap, chimed tunelessly.

Zhang Lin’s eyes danced over the offering bowl. “The offerings are prepared in full?”

“Yes, Esteemed Minister.” The priest raised his eyes to the sky, scanning the stars. “And the sky is auspicious. The calling may begin as soon as you are prepared.”

“I am… prepared.” Zhang Lin pressed his lips together. He had done all he could, checked and double-checked every particular. Could he say that he was prepared to call upon the lord of the waters, who had not been summoned these last five generations? Yet there was nothing more to do. No hesitation could overcome what doubts remained; he must yet trust in the heavens and the signs.

“Then we must begin.” Together, Zhang Lin and the priest took hold of the offering bowl and slid it into the water. With a gentle shove, the priest launched it toward the center of the lake, where a gentle current running from the falls caught and carried it. The five of them hurried back to the center of the mock-temple, with the three Calling Maidens kneeling in the center, one before and two flanking her behind. Zhang Lin and the priest took up a watchful place next to the chief scholar and his scribes, along the edge.

Pinpoints of light from the smoldering sticks of incense shimmered on the lake, all but clouded out by the mist. The priest rang the cymbal, and all assembled grew quiet as one. A great hush fell, weighty, over the temple; even the winds and the rustle of trees seemed to have ceased. Only the rush of the waterfalls was left to the ears.

In the silence, the first maiden began to sing. In moments the other two began in harmony, and as one they spread their arms to the sky.

Rains call the stars in a cloudless sky,

And fertile fields drink the bounty of Heaven;

The lord of waters gazes upon his realm,

And watches the spring swallow fly true.

The words hung in the air as the verse concluded. It was an old poem, of ancient provenance and recorded to have been spoken at the last calling. Zhang Lin had considered penning a new poem for the occasion, but there was too much riding on the success of this venture, and a pious recognition of the ancestors’ words seemed more apropos. Perhaps, if all went well, he would author a new verse to be appended to the records.

The maidens bowed low, arms extended forward and foreheads touching the ground in unison. For long, breathless moments, nothing happened; Zhang Lin felt his heart pounding in his throat. The chief priest, beside him, wore a mask of serenity, but the priest’s fingers knit together in a silent vise-grip.

As he began to fear the worst, a ripple rolled out from the center of the lake. The offering bowl tossed and rolled, and within the mists that shrouded it, the twinkling lights of the incense went out. Zhang Lin rose, unconsciously, on the balls of his feet. No one so much as breathed. And then, like a great fish breaching the surface, a terrific crashing fountain burst from the midst of the lake. The water roiled and thrashed, and scattered drops reached as far as the temple’s edge. Among the splashing water, Zhang Lin saw something long and sleek arc in and out of the lake, a scaled, serpentine knot.

Gasps and muted cries emerged from all as the offering bowl was covered, and dragged down into the water. The roiling slowed, leaving only a scattering of bubbles upon the surface. One minute passed, then another. Zhang Lin wet his lips. Was the offering inadequate? Had they offended the lord of the lake?

The water’s parting dispelled his fears. An upswell rose, and broke, and coursing from the spray like a new-hatched serpent soared the dragon. In the moonlight his scales glinted blue-black, and the sheen of water made him shine crystalline in the sky as it sloughed from him. The old paintings spoke true, but what man’s water-colors could capture in full the majesty of this divine beast? The dragon looped the lake once, as the assembly gawped, open-mouthed, then descended to coil himself mid-air before the bowing maidens.

His visage was terrible, with piercing blue eyes like stars, shimmering as if reflected on the surface of still water. Great fangs filled a heavy maw large enough to crush Zhang Lin’s head with room to spare, and between long and many-pronged antlers rose a wild mane of aquamarine like the deep and distant ocean. That mane shot down the length of his long and narrow body, which hovered in the midst of the air without aid of any wings. Smaller limbs, claws tipped with deadly talons, tucked close to its body almost as a man might fold his arms.

The dragon lowered his head to the kowtowing maiden in front. His nostrils flared, and a deep, rolling rumble shook the silent air. When he spoke, his voice, though pitched low, yet reverberated in Zhang Lin’s ears.

“For what purpose have you summoned Sheng-Li Hulong?”

Zhang Lin opened his mouth, but clamped it again when he realized the dragon’s eyes remained fixed on the Calling Maiden. She lifted her head slowly, just enough to acknowledge the address, but without the courage to meet his eyes. “My lord, a plague ravages these lands which you protect. Many thousands have died, and more suffer. We come to beg your blessings to cure –“

Sheng-Li’s tongue darted from his mouth like a serpent’s and flicked about his snout. “Fuck me.”

A strange, new silence fell over the makeshift temple. Zhang Lin suddenly could not feel his tongue.

The maiden hesitated, then lifted her head, brows knit. “M-my lord?”

The dragon lowered his head, eyes drawing level with the woman. “Pull up your dress and fuck me.”

Zhang Lin glanced sidelong, meeting the wide eyes of the chief priest. Murmurs rose among the assembled as composure wavered. Even in the warm glow of the bonfires, the heat in the Calling Maiden’s face was clearly visible.

“My lord is this… is this a jest?” She attempted a smile, weak with uncertainty.

Sheng-Li did not smile back. “Does it sound like one?” He lifted his head above the swirling tangle of his body and swept the temple with his shining eyes. All looked aside, murmurs silenced by his gaze. At last Zhang Lin found himself alone in meeting the dragon’s eyes. He wet his lips, and at last he, too, looked aside.

Sheng-Li returned his attention to the maiden, who by now was staring at the ground. “Well? Do you wish my service or not?”

In desperation, the maiden turned pleading eyes to Zhang Lin. He stepped forward with leaden feet and cleared his throat. As Junior Provincial Minister of Ceremony, it was his duty to take control of the situation and speak for his inferiors. “My… my lord, this is… most irregular.”

“How would you know?” Did… did Sheng-Li Hulong just roll his eyes?

“I, well – it is not – nngh.” Zhang Lin drew a deep breath and tucked his hands into his sleeves, lest they betray their trembling. “Such… language is not used in the Celestial Court. And there are no records of…” He pulled at the hems of his sleeves. “Offerings of such a nature.”

“Hmph. No, probably not. I don’t mind helping you, but humans are such a blinkered lot.” The dragon unwound himself to float nearer, body stretching the length of the temple. He was… smaller than Zhang Lin had imagined. Not that he was small, but the divine beast that emerged from the lake had the mass of something like a very large horse, albeit stretched in serpentine comportment. Still, Sheng-Li brought his maw close to the scribes and priests while the tip of his tail yet draped over the frozen Calling Maiden’s shoulder.

“You there. What’s that insignia? Chief scribe?”

The scholar under Sheng-Li’s address nodded dumbly, eyes wide.

“How long has it been since I was last called upon? Do they still teach that these days?”

The scholar swallowed. “I, um… ah.” He stared down at his temporary desk, erected along with the rest of the temple to allow him to record the events of the summoning for posterity. There were no answers there, and seconds ticked by as the man wrestled to find the answer in his memory. “I believe it was one hundred… one hundred and eighty-four years, my lord. In the reign of Celestial Emperor Liu –“

“Liu Hong, yes. I remember him. Singularly unpleasant. A poor scion of Heaven.”

The scholar opened and closed his mouth, struggling. To speak ill of an ancestral Emperor was too much, even at the behest of a divine beast – though Zhang Lin confessed to himself, privately, that the dragon was not far off the mark.

“As you will, my lord.”

“Do your records speak of the offerings made at that summoning?”

“Y-yes, my lord. All that we have made offering of tonight.” His eyes darted to Zhang Lin and back to the dragon. “We were careful not to leave out so much as a jot. If somehow our offering was deficient, then the records –“

“The records are fine. You know what they didn’t offer back then?”

The scholar, Zhang Lin, and the chief priest bit their lower lips in unison. Sheng-Li leaned forward, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. “Hmm? Well?”

When the scholar could not respond, Zhang Lin again felt compelled to intervene. “Was it… a maiden, my lord?”

“It was. Or, more to the point, was not. No maiden. No minister’s daughter. Not so much as a prostitute!”

Zhang Lin frowned. The priests and scribes around him shifted their weight uncomfortably. “Yet you aided them.” He hesitated, and added, “And our ancestors would never have insulted your divinity with offerings of… a prostitute.” He wrinkled his nose.

“I’m not a monster. But how would you like to be alone and celibate for hundreds of years? The priests I can understand, but you –“ Sheng-Li paused, eyes drifting over Zhang Lin’s regalia. “– a Junior Provincial Minister of Ceremony, certainly have a wife, if not a concubine or two besides.” He huffed, rustling the scribes’ parchments with his breath. “I’d have taken anything by that point. But no, in and out, like it has always been.” He drifted away, turning his lengthy body into a loop that slowly spiraled about the temple, with the maidens caught in the ring.

“Well, it is too demeaning. I have needs, as loathe as your Celestial Court is to recognize them. Therefore, let it be said with the authority of all Heaven, by the word of Sheng-Li Hulong, that from this day forth, all such summonings must bring with them, in addition to all ancestral offerings, a fine young maiden of good standing and respectful disposition, whom I shall fuck as sign and seal of pact between Heaven and Earth.”

He stopped midair and thrust one claw at the chief scribe. “You. Write that down.”

With trembling hand, the scribe complied.

“How… shall such a maiden be chosen, my lord?” Zhang Lin could hardly believe he was asking such a thing. Six months of plague and devastation, and all their great hopes came to this? Worse, he knew the Emperor would give up a Calling Maiden, whatever she might have wished. Restoration of the harmonious order of nature was paramount, and all men and women served at the pleasure of the Celestial Court.

“I’m not picky. But I expect not to be insulted.” Sheng-Li resumed his lazy spiral. “Imagine you were picking out a suitable match for your son. I will leave the particulars to your judgement.” He looked inward, at the three Calling Maidens yet bowing upon the ground. None had moved save the one in front, who dared glance sidelong through her flowing hair at the circling dragon. “These are all suitable, if that aids your wisdom.”

The dragon paused again, his head passing by the chief scribe. Here he broke the loop and circled around behind the man to look over his shoulder. The scribe swallowed hard, but continued his calligraphy, shoulders hunched. Sheng-Li only leaned in closer, until his scales were all but brushing the scholar’s cheek.

“What is that?”

The scribe drew a deep breath. “It… is what you commanded me to write, my lord.”

“Did I say…” Sheng-Li’s eyes roamed the parchment. “…’take her as a man will a wife’?”

“I… no, my lord.”

“What did I say?”

“That you would… ah… erm…” The scholar pulled at his collar.

“You’re an adult.”

“That you would… fuck her, my lord.”

“That’s right. Now, start over, and write what I said.”

The dragon left the scholar to restart his work, and floated past with a sigh. “Honestly. None of you seem to be particularly serious about –“

“I will do it.” The sudden interruption startled Zhang Lin, the chief priest, and all the assembled crowd. It was the first Calling Maiden, head still bowed, but soft voice steeled with resolve beneath her reverent posture.

“Well.” Sheng-Li looped around until he hovered before the maiden, and gathered himself in coils before her. “That’s brave of you. What’s your name?”

“Lei Min, my lord.”

“You understand what is going to happen to you, Lei Min?”

She hesitated, then nodded once. “I… yes, my lord. It is only a very small price for the lives and serenity of my people.” Still, beneath the iron front, a tremble betrayed her voice. How could it not?

“So it is. And your people shall owe very much to you, now and forever. Very much indeed. Rise.”

Lei Min stood, rising on shaky legs, and clasped her hands together at her waist with eyes downcast. The dragon’s eyes roamed, observing her as a scholar might a prospective wife – without unseemly and lurid intent in his posture, but the sharp and calculating determinations of a thoughtful mind. Not that Zhang Lin would have known what a lurid posture might have looked like in such a divine beast.

“Yes,” Sheng-Li said at last. “Good. The offering is accepted.” And then he struck like lightning: his coiled, airborne body unfurled like a serpent on the attack, and in an instant he had wound himself around Lei Min. She squealed, despite herself, and clasped blindly at his scales as he gripped her in his coils. All at once he heaved her off the ground, and in one great arcing leap from the midst of the temple, he launched himself away and dove together with his maiden into the midst of the lake.

Gasps arose from the priests and workers, and several at last broke ranks to scatter forth, lining the lakeside in search of evidence of Lei Min’s fate. Only bubbles now rose from the gradually stilling water, and soon even the ripples of Sheng-Li Hulong’s dive faded into dark, crystalline purity.

Zhang Lin swallowed, and turned to the chief priest. “Do you… think he will return her? Is she safe? She cannot remain there for long…”

The priest’s brows knit in contemplation. “I do not know. This is… unprecedented. If I might venture speculation… the divine beasts do not bare their fangs against the harmonious. And Sheng-Li Hulong has never slain a righteous man. Or woman.” Both men cast their eyes over the lake. “It must be that the blessings of the divine shall sustain her. It must be.”

Zhang Lin frowned. “It is all we can do to hope.” Should they remain, for word of the… aftermath? There was something ill-omened about it, something prurient. Even if the maiden emerged – no longer a maiden, but merely Lei Min – all present would know what had transpired. The dragon made certain of that. How could a righteous man watch such a thing?

And yet, they could not depart until the pact was concluded. At the very least, Sheng-Li Hulong would have to confirm his aid in exchange for the… offering. “We will remain until she emerges. If she does not come back by sunrise…” He sighed. “We shall pursue what other options remain to us.”

The strange mood that had fallen over the makeshift temple grew stranger and deeper as the hours passed. Men crowded in small groups, whispering to one another about what they had seen. The remaining Calling Maidens embraced one another in silence broken only by occasional words of comfort. For his own part, Zhang Lin paced the lakeside, casting eyes both to the sky and to the surface of the lake every few minutes.

It was almost midnight, bonfires burning low, when a violent waterspout broke the surface of the lake, shooting into the air with such force that Zhang Lin – who happened to be looking that way at the time – thought for a moment it looked like an upside-down waterfall. A hue and cry went up from the camp, and men gathered at the lake edge to observe as Sheng-Li rose from the water in a lazy, listless drift that Zhang Lin could only imagine as the aerial version of a slouch.

Draped in his arms lay Lei Min, her modest temple dress soaked, clinging, and torn in places. At first he feared the worst, that she had drowned, and it was only her lifeless body which the dragon returned to them, but as the pair approached the shore, she stirred and lifted one arm to wave at the crowd.

A cheer of relief went up. It was only after that emotional surge that Zhang Lin saw the slightly glassy look in Lei Min’s eyes, the loose and lazy smile on her face. He pursed his lips.

The dragon deposited her on the lake shore, where she tottered inland on uneasy legs. Her counterparts rushed forward to support her, one arm around each, and together the three settled off to the side. Zhang Lin approached the dragon, trying not to look very closely at the… two maidens and their friend.

“You have satisfied me,” Sheng-Li announced without preamble, “and so you have my aid. Bring me a cauldron of water from this lake.” At once a pair of men hurried to retrieve one of the large cooking pots and fill it, and together they hauled it before the dragon. He lifted one claw above the surface of the water, and with great gravitas lowered but a single talon until it touched the center.

Liquid light coalesced around his claw and rolled down the talon to disappear into the water. Gradually at first, but then with ever greater strength, a pale blue light like that of stars took hold within the cauldron. In moments it filled the whole of the pot with its shine. Zhang Lin, looking into the cauldron, felt his heart leap. He had just witnessed a miracle – had he also witnessed, at long last, the beginning of the end for this plague?

“To anyone who suffers, but a single drop of this, my gift, shall return to them the strength of body and spirit which they lack,” Sheng-Li intoned. “Two drops upon a fallow field shall cleanse it of impurities, and three drops upon the lips of a man too soon claimed by blight shall return him from the sleep of the ancestors.”

Such was the cheering that the dragon had to pause, snout wrinkling in what Zhang Lin took for annoyance, but he continued soon enough, if a little louder. “Should my gift be spent, and trouble yet fall upon the land and its people, know that in the name of Heaven, I, Sheng-Li Hulong, Lord of the Lake and River of Shouli, shall again render aid when called upon with righteous offerings and an honorable maiden to fuck.”

Zhang Lin’s genuine smile faltered at the end. “I, ah… in the name of the Celestial Court, and all the people of the Earth, thank you for your… great generosity and kindness. Know that we, the people of the land, shall never call upon you frivolously –“

“Oh, no, please do. You can’t imagine how relieved I am. I believe some frivolity is warranted. Or at least I won’t be too unhappy about it with the right incentives.”

A sudden burst of giggling drew Zhang Lin’s eye. The three women were laughing together and whispering like girls fawning over their first suitor. As the dragon followed his gaze, the women looked back, and the two remaining maidens smiled with the same shy façade Zhang Lin had learned to recognize among courtiers who saw something they wanted.

“My lord, might one cauldron not be enough?”

“Yes, at least two, for the province is so very large –“

“No, three!”

Oh no. The dragon was already drifting toward the trio with a glint in his eye, wide maw opened in display of deathly fangs that – for reasons Zhang Lin could not fathom – did not send the maidens running nor even blunt their flushed giggling. He cleared his throat loudly. “My lord, surely we have taken too much of your time already. If it pleases you…”

It was no use. Sheng-Li had already wound himself around the three, and in moments the trio, together with their captor, plunged again into the inky waters of Lake Shouli. Zhang Lin closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.

“The ways of Heaven and its divinities are obscure to the mind of man,” the chief priest opined at his side, in a voice altogether more serene than Zhang Lin felt. He did not think there was very much that was obscure about this. In fact, it was rather awkwardly open. How could he possibly report to the Emperor what had happened? Or make public the records of the summoning, written as they were?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. That would be a matter for another day. For now, the blessing – three cauldrons’ worth, eventually – had been secured, and the crisis was all but over. “When the three are… finished, we will return to the capital. I haven’t the slightest clue how I am to document any of this. Ancestors save me.”

He opened his eyes to find the priest smiling quietly to himself. “Heaven and Earth turn each in their spheres. So it goes.”

In the distance, a small spout broke the lake surface and scattered drops of water across Zhang Lin’s boots. He stared down at the spattered moisture, then sighed.

“So it goes.”

…and then, the divine dragon Sheng-Li Hulong, Lord of the Lake and River of Shouli, spoke to those assembled in reverence, and said,with booming voice that all might tremble in heed of it,

“Together with the ancestral offerings, you shall make unto me an offering of a fine maiden, of good upbringing and disposition, whom I shall fuck…”

• Excerpt from Records of the Third and Fourth Kingdoms,

placed under seal by order of the Ministry of Rites and Ceremonies