Chapter Fourteen: Explaining the Cabinet

When our conversation about metaphysics threatened to wander endlessly, it was Ren Tianxing who sensibly cleared his throat, prompting everyone to halt their digression.

Wang Tingting pursed her lips and glanced at me before raising her voice and speaking with serious intent: “Let’s set aside the question of spirits and deities for now—we can study that later. But a cabinet without any cooling system somehow developed frost and snow, and it’s related to that gun. Mr. Du, do you have any insight?”

“In metaphysics, whether it’s Feng Shui or the principles of the Yi Jing, everything revolves around the concepts of the Two Forces, the Four Symbols, and the Eight Trigrams. For example, the ancients often said: ‘The Supreme Ultimate gives birth to the Two Forces, the Two Forces give rise to the Four Symbols, the Four Symbols generate the Eight Trigrams.’” Old Du spoke fluently, confidence shining on his face as he touched upon his area of expertise. Naturally, anyone present at such a research gathering would be of considerable caliber. Metaphysics may lack the public and governmental promotion of other fields, but it receives covert support.

The government strives to foster orthodox metaphysics while eradicating harmful superstitions, yet superstition has thousands of years of history and cannot be eliminated in mere decades. Thus, science is elevated in status, and the place of metaphysics in people's hearts is intentionally diminished—but it must not be discarded entirely, and is instead secretly encouraged. Every locality in our country has a metaphysics society, each backed by the local government, who are instructed to handle matters discreetly so that no “agenda-driven” individuals can use them as fodder to criticize the nation’s system.

“The Two Forces are what we commonly call Yin and Yang. ‘Four Symbols’ first appeared in the Yi Jing's ‘Commentaries’—namely, the Sun, the Moon, Lesser Yin, and Lesser Yang. In Feng Shui, the Four Symbols refer to directions.

The pre-Qin Classic of Rites states: ‘Proceeding forward, the Vermilion Bird; behind, the Black Turtle; left, the Azure Dragon; right, the White Tiger.’

The commentary adds: ‘Forward is south, backward is north, left is east, right is west; Vermilion Bird, Black Turtle, Azure Dragon, White Tiger are the names of the four directional constellations.’ Here, the Vermilion Bird is also known as the Vermilion Sparrow.

‘Left is east, right is west’—this differs from our modern map orientation. Today’s maps are north on top, south on bottom, west on left, east on right. Ancient maps were inverted: north on bottom, south on top, thus ‘left is east, right is west.’ Feng Shui practitioners applied the Four Symbols to terrain, using their forms and movements as metaphors for the landscape, and connecting them to auspicious or ominous outcomes.”

Old Du’s profound knowledge of metaphysics was evident; a single question unleashed a cascade of ancient references, earning secret admiration from all present—indeed, he was worthy of being called the foremost authority in the field. If he were to meet Gu Jing, his insights would surely ascend to another level.

“Whether it’s the Two Forces, the Four Symbols, the Five Elements, or the Eight Trigrams, each has its essence: perpetual cycles of creation and mutual restraint. If we interpret the frost and snow in the cabinet as a manifestation of creative interaction, it becomes quite easy to explain.” Old Du looked at us with a certain conviction, searching for anyone who might offer a better explanation.

Be it snow in June or blossoms in the southern provinces, such tales remain stories fabricated by enthusiasts or literati, or perhaps they truly occurred; but with the passage of time, they cannot be fully verified. The phenomenon before us—a cabinet containing frost and snow that does not melt—is so bizarre that science struggles to explain it. Yet Old Du’s metaphysical interpretation seems entirely reasonable.

“Could you elaborate further, Old Du?” Dr. Wang, ever the scholar, spoke with a tone and method of thinking that surpassed most; as an archaeologist, his experience was vast. He surely understood Old Du’s point, but wanted to hear more.

“In terms of metaphysics, at a certain moment, some elements within the cabinet generated a creative interaction. To use a chemistry analogy, a chemical reaction occurred, causing frost and snow to appear on the inner walls as in a refrigerator. Such a reaction requires external factors—what we often call catalysts.”

“You mean the box inside the cabinet is the catalyst?” Ren Tianxing interjected immediately.

“There’s that possibility,” Dr. Wang nodded, evidently satisfied with Old Du’s explanation. “A substance buried underground for thousands of years might undergo fundamental changes, producing materials unlike those we’re accustomed to—though our eyes can neither see nor detect them. For instance, the phenomenon of the Virgin Mary shedding ‘bloody tears’ in California: unless it’s man-made, this is the only way to explain it.”

I had read reports online and in newspapers about the Virgin Mary’s ‘bloody tears’ in California. In a church on the outskirts of Sacramento, a statue of the Virgin wept for several days; the substance from her eyes appeared blood-red, like drops of real blood. But I found Old Du’s explanation somewhat forced.

His approach is the sole recourse when science fails, yet metaphysics is a vast domain, and Old Du’s mastery extends only to a small part of it. My skeptical expression did not escape Old Du’s notice; he seemed to think I disagreed, and his face changed subtly. I quickly apologized: “I meant no offense, Old Du. If science cannot explain something, metaphysics is the only alternative. Your interpretation stands, but metaphysics encompasses so much more, and there are other ways to explain such phenomena.”

“Another way?” Dr. Wang was surprised—few would gently imply that an expert’s work was but a small portion of the whole, let alone offer another perspective. Even Old Liu was curious about my words, though not amazed. Ren Tianxing, as a policeman, was unflappable and focused on evidence. Wang Tingting and Old Liu, sensing there was more to my words, watched me expectantly, though not as dramatically as Old Du and Dr. Wang.

I licked my lips, drank a mouthful of beer, and continued: “Old Du’s metaphysics comes from history books and works passed down through the ages. But has anyone here read a book written by an Eastern traveler during the Han dynasty called ‘Strange Records of China’?”

“You mean Kojima Hideo’s ‘Strange Records of China’?” Dr. Wang asked.

“Exactly!” I replied, and even the composed Ren Tianxing showed a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Before the Han dynasty, Japanese people referred to us as ‘Shina’ while we called them ‘Eastern Sea People,’ ‘Easterners,’ or ‘Wokou.’ Whether these names are offensive is immaterial. The author, Kojima Hideo, was fond of traveling. After several years in China, he returned to Japan and wrote this book, which is now held in Japanese archives as a protected ancient text. There are a few handwritten copies circulating, but they only contain a small portion of the original.”

“If it’s a collection of strange records, it must contain unusual stories,” Wang Tingting said eagerly. “What’s in it?”

“I recall the author described passing through Mao Mountain, at the Great Mao Peak, where he witnessed a Daoist in a yellow robe with a Bagua diagram on his chest and a Yin-Yang symbol on his back. The Daoist held a wooden sword and chanted incantations. At his command, thunder rumbled wherever his gaze fell; when he called for wind, storms arose. Such a figure, capable of summoning thunder and wind, was regarded as a celestial being, and Kojima Hideo knelt in worship.

Given the timeline, the Han dynasty coincides with the era of Master Zhang, the celestial leader. To wield a wooden sword and command the elements without talismans must have required extraordinary powers. Perhaps Kojima Hideo witnessed Master Zhang himself on Mao Mountain.”

“If that Daoist could call thunder and wind, then conjuring snow would surely be a basic skill!” Wang Tingting exclaimed excitedly.

Old Du, thinking I was being pedantic, scoffed at me, sneering coldly: “Those tales of Daoist magic are all fabricated and not to be taken seriously! In ancient times, when wisdom was lacking, some people invented supernatural stories for personal gain, deceiving others with strange powers.”

Such reasoning is rather forced; in this era, it’s hard to accept such explanations. I shrugged, offering no rebuttal.

But Wang Tingting, for once, defended me, her beautiful face suddenly cold as she challenged Old Du: “Isn’t your metaphysical knowledge also derived from ancient texts? How do you know those books aren't fabricated?”

She sat back, muttering quietly: “Looking at the sky from the bottom of a well!” Though soft, her words were clear.

Old Du paused, stunned, and when he realized she had accused him of narrow-mindedness, his face flushed with anger. As a leader in metaphysics, he was accustomed to flattery, and likely never before confronted so bluntly; his face turned red and white by turns, even his neck flushed.

Fortunately, the group was level-headed, and Old Du, mindful of his status, refrained from reacting, merely gulping down beer with barely concealed fury, surely cursing Wang Tingting in his heart.

“Tingting, mind your manners!” Seeing the awkward tension, I couldn’t help but interject.

Just then, Ren Tianxing’s phone rang, drawing everyone’s attention.

He answered, his expression growing grave as he spoke into the receiver, his voice tinged with anger. Something seemed amiss.

After hanging up, he looked at us and said calmly, “Academician Zhang has died under mysterious circumstances.”

“Academician Zhang from the Ion Research Institute?” Dr. Wang and Old Liu exclaimed, springing up anxiously. “Let’s go see!”

Old Liu glanced at me, signaling me to come along. I checked my watch—it was already two in the morning. I had planned to rest soon, but since something had happened, I couldn’t refuse. I was curious, too, about what Ren Tianxing meant by “mysterious death.” We all headed down the mountain together.

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The company has been busy lately, so updates are slow. I’ll write whenever I have time. Please, don’t rush me for drafts on QQ. Thank you.

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