Taoist priest goes to America

Canal Road, the main thoroughfare of Manhattan's Chinatown.

Canal Road was much quieter than Ang Lee had imagined at night. As soon as he got out of the taxi, he saw many large red lanterns with Chinese style. The red light shone down from the tall lampposts, casting circles of red light on the sidewalk.

Most of the shops on both sides of the road were closed, with their roller shutters pulled all the way down, but some shops still had their lights on.

For example, several rows of roast ducks hang in the window of a roast meat shop, glistening with oil under the warm yellow light.

A spicy pig's trotters restaurant called "Chunshanxiang" was packed with customers. A thin layer of mist condensed on the glass, and the aroma of Sichuan peppercorns wafted from the cracks in the door.

There were still fruit shops that hadn't closed up shop. Boxes of oranges and pomelos were piled up on the sidewalk, next to a cardboard sign. A middle-aged man sat on a plastic stool behind the fruit stall, dozing off with his head down.

Ang Lee walked east along Canal Road. Chinese and English signs, printed in both Chinese and English, swept over his head, glowing with a pale yellow light.

He saw a street sign: "Zaiya Street". This was one of his targets. When he was searching online, someone mentioned that there was a long-established paper craft shop on this street.

He turned into that street.

Zaiye Street is narrow, lined with old-fashioned brick buildings that are five or six stories high. The exterior walls are dark red, and withered vines of varying thickness grow from the cracks in the bricks. Iron bars are welded to the windows, behind which are dark, empty windows.

Occasionally, a light would be on in a window, but the light was trapped between the buildings on either side and could not reach the ground, only forming a thin layer of light mist in the air.

Ang Lee walked down the narrow street, his footsteps bouncing back and forth between the brick walls on either side like marbles, turning into echoes.

He recalled a claim he'd seen online: Zaiya Street used to be called "Bloody Corner." In the early 20th century, two factions of Chinese gangs fought each other there, resulting in many deaths. This winding street was the perfect ambush spot; no one would walk this road at night without a reason.

He crossed the street corner and finally saw the store.

The shop's storefront is small, sandwiched between a closed traditional Chinese medicine shop and a still-open barbershop, like a child huddled between two adults.

There was a burnt smell in the air, like the smell of a mixture of Chinese herbs, such as angelica, astragalus, and codonopsis, that had been overcooked.

The light in the shop window of the paper craft shop was still on; it was one of those old-fashioned incandescent bulbs, emitting a yellowish-white light.

Several yellow paper talismans were displayed in the shop window, with red characters drawn on them, the strokes of the red characters crooked and distorted.

The first few yellow paper talismans were tied with red thread and hung on two paper-craft racks. Li An could tell at a glance that they were hand-drawn and not mass-produced products from a factory.

The strokes aren't too bad, but unfortunately the person who drew the talisman lacked skill. The core of the talisman was positioned off-center, and there were breaks in the connection between the beginning and end of the strokes. The overall "energy" of the talisman was scattered.

Next to the talisman stood two paper figures, a man and a woman, about the height of a child.

The paper figure's face was drawn very white, with two round rosy blushes on its cheeks, and the corners of its mouth were upturned in a smile. The clothes on its body were red and green, the kind of paper shrouds commonly seen in funeral homes.

The paper girl's hair was made of thin strands cut from black paper, pasted onto her paper forehead, with a few strands hanging down to cover the upper half of her eyes.

The paper boy's eyes are drawn very large, with black pupils and two small white dots at the position of the pupils, making his gaze seem to be staring at everyone who passes by.

Next to the paper effigy were rows of incense sticks and candles—red, green, and white. Each one was about the thickness of a little finger, packed in a transparent plastic bag that was sealed tightly, but the scent of incense and candles still wafted out.

The strong candle scent is a mixture of pure industrial fragrance and paraffin, with a pungent chemical smell that makes you want to sneeze.

Ang Lee looked up at the signboard. On a dark wooden board, the words "Fudetang" were engraved in gold traditional Chinese characters.

The edges of the signboard were peeling, revealing the brown wood underneath. Below the signboard was a line of small characters written in red paint: "We manufacture all kinds of funerary objects."

On either side of the signboard hung a red lantern, not an electric lantern, but the kind of paper lantern with candles, the candlelight flickering violently in the night wind.

Ang Lee pushed the door. It wouldn't open. There was a piece of cardboard hanging on the door with the word "Closed" written on it.

He flipped the cardboard sign over to the back, where it said "Open Shop." Then he hung the signboard back up and knocked on the door three times.

After waiting for a while and receiving no response, he knocked three more times, each time harder than the last.

Footsteps came from behind the door, and the door opened a crack, revealing an eye peeking out.

The eye was dark brown with yellowish whites and fine wrinkles at the corner. He looked at Li An from head to toe, his gaze settling on Li An's Taoist robe.

"We're closing." An old voice came from behind the door, with a heavy hometown accent.

The eye immediately shrank back out from the crack in the door.

Ang Lee placed his hand on the door and slowly pried it open.

"I come from a very far place. I need cinnabar, yellow paper, and materials for apotropaic puppets."

"Snap!" Another hand gripped the edge of the door, trying to stop Li An from prying it open. Five fingers gripped the door crack tightly, each finger joint as thick as bamboo, nails yellowed, and two nails had a vertical black line at the base.

The eye peeking through the crack in the door glanced at him again.

"Who are you?" (Who are you?)

Ang Lee looked through the crack in the door and said, "He's from Maoshan. He's here in America for tourism and wants to buy things from you, his fellow countryman."

As Ang Lee slowly pried open the door with his right hand, he told the person behind it what he needed:

"The cinnabar must be refined, the yellow paper must be from Jiangxi, and 30 grams of the catalyst for the apocalyptic puppet."

The person behind the door stopped resisting Li An's attempt to pry open the door, and the air fell silent.

"What did you just say?" The voice behind the door had changed. It was no longer that lazy, hoarse tone; it had become much deeper.

"I'm from Maoshan, I need to buy something from you." Li An repeated. "The cinnabar must be mellowed, the yellow paper must be from the west. Thirty grams of catalyst for amulets used in talismans."

The person behind the door didn't move. His fingers gripped the doorknob tighter and tighter.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

Looking at the nervous old man, Li An knew why; the reason was probably related to the puppet used in the curse.

The sorcery of using dolls is also known as stabbing voodoo dolls or burying evil objects to harm people.

The doll used in the curse is engraved with the name and birth date, and buried under the threshold or inside the beam of the other party. This is called a malevolent curse.

They made dolls out of straw, coffins, and black cloth, and inside them were hidden the other person's birth date, hair, nails, and personal clothing, and then wrote their name on them.

Then, the doll is pierced with needles, causing the corresponding physical ailments, serious illnesses, and misfortunes, resulting in constant bad luck and misfortune.

This is a cursed spell used to harm people.

"If you are seeking prosperity in your business and good fortune for your home, I will provide you with auspicious charms."

"Set up a gourd, hang a Bagua jade pendant, amulet coins, peach charms, wrap a peace sachet, paste a door god—no problem, I have all those things here."

"But amulets are different. They're not used for auspicious purposes." The person behind the door emphasized, looking into Li An's eyes, waiting for his explanation.

"Tell me the truth," the person behind the door said, a hint of anger in their voice, "Who are you? Who taught you this?"