Chapter 12: Whispers in the Mist

Yi awakens to the relentless sound of rain, a steady drumming that seems to resonate with the rhythm of his own unsettled thoughts. The room is still dim, the early morning light struggling to penetrate the gray veil of the storm. To his surprise, Hongmi is no longer curled up on the floor. Her absence fills the room with an eerie silence, amplifying Yi’s sense of solitude. He sees that one of the zongzi has been unwrapped, with a large bite taken out of it, but its remnants sitting on the leaves and the other untouched.
He rises and stretches, feeling stiff after sleeping on a bed after so long, his body accustomed to the stone floors of the Temple. His mind gravitates to the monks, wonders what they are doing, if the rain is as fierce there as it is here.
He finds an umbrella left outside his door, a thoughtful gesture that he appreciates given the unrelenting downpour. With the umbrella in hand, Yi steps out into the village, a veil of mist and rain shrouding the small fishing community perched high on the cliff. The swollen river below roars with the influx of stormwater, its sounds merging with the patter of raindrops on his umbrella.
The village, enveloped in mist, reveals itself to Yi in fragments – narrow pathways, small cottages, and occasional glimpses of the churning river below. The heavy mist renders everything distant and obscure, creating a sense of disorientation. Yi finds himself wandering, the pathways seemingly twisting and turning on themselves, leading him further into the heart of the village. Yi's exploration of the village feels like a journey through a living, breathing entity. The river's presence is felt more than seen, its thunderous voice a reminder of nature's unyielding force.
In his meandering, Yi encounters Han, the village's elderly caretaker, whose calm demeanor amidst the chaos of the storm is a grounding presence. Han's news that the footbridges back to the fields are currently impassable casts a shadow of uncertainty over Yi's plans. "The river's anger makes the paths treacherous," Han explains, his voice carrying the wisdom of one who has witnessed many seasons.
"Thank you, Han. I understand. Safety must come first," Yi replies, his mind racing with the implications of this delay. He grows anxious about his plan to see his mother, if the delay will make it impossible. He chews his lip in contemplation.
"Not to worry, you can stay as long as you need. We can only offer you one meal in the morning and one in the evening, but you are welcome here and hope you find the meager accomodations satisfactory." Han gives a smile, a few teeth missing.
"Oh, I am very grateful for your hospitality, and I don't wish to be a burden on your village any longer than needed," replies Yi. "Let me plan on making the protection talismans in the meantime, and then we can collect the lotus roots once the weather has improved."
"We would be most appreciative," Han nods eagerly. "The villagers all have various needs, if you would like to walk around and ask if they need a talisman, I am sure you can find all of those who need them in no time."
"I will do that," Yi confirms, "But also, have you seen my travel companion, Miss Hongmi?"
At the mention of her, Han's smile lessens and they remain in a state of silence for several moments. Again, the coldness about her. Did the village know Hongmi?
"Please let me know if you need anything further, Monk Yi, I need to continue with some chores." Han bows his had, and scurries away, enveloped by the mist as he travels down a nearby path.
Yi continues to wander, asking intermittenly about any talismans the villagers might want. He notices the demographic of the village – predominantly elderly people and young children. The absence of adults and teenagers strikes him as odd, but he assumes they must be working elsewhere, perhaps in distant fields or other villages, trapped in the storm themselves.
He makes a mental tally of the requests, and finally he reaches the far end of the village. Through the misy, he makes out a sprawling willow tree, and beneath it a figure clad in red, nestled almost in the roots: Hongmi. She sits alone, her figure a red seal at the foot of an elaborate painting, the tree's grandeur stunning and imposing. As he continues to approach, the cascading branches, the twist of the trunk, all seem familiar to Yi, an odd sensation given his certainty that he has never visited this village before.
"Hongmi," Yi calls out gently, breaking the silence.
Hongmi looks up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and seriousness. "Yi, you found me," she smiles slightly, the seriousness lifting out of her dark eyes just a shade. "Listen, I want to ask you about something important," she says, her voice soft but firm. She chews her lower lip slightly in contemplation, and adds, "but I'm not really sure how."
Yi sits beside her under the willow's sheltering branches, a comfortable distance from where Hongmi is curled, the rain barely penetrating them with so many branches canopying above. "What is it? You can ask me, I'm here to help."
Hongmi smiles wider at this and begins to unravel her tale, "The reasom I'm here is, my home was destroyed by something...evil, a darkness that lingers in this world, but I don't really understand what it is. I've come here seeking a way to understand it and, hopefully, defeat it, but I still have so much I don't understand."
Yi is both perplexed and assured by what she says. Her tale echoes the narrative of the scroll he had transcribed, speaking of an ancient shadow that consumed mens' hearts.
She explains how she lost everything, her family and home gone, and the terror that she felt that was unlike any she had experienced in her life. Yi listens, captivated by her words.
"I have been traveling these lands for a while, searching for answers, and I believe they lie at the old shrine of a mountain near here, although they are shrouded in secrets," Hongmi continues, her eyes searching Yi's. "It used to be a place the villagers went to leave offerings for the local god. About ten years ago, I heard rumors people stopped making the journey there because it became dangerous, almost as if a shadow had been cast over the mountains. I have tried asking the villagers," she hesitates, looks down at her hands that she has folded tight over her lap, her legs coiled tightly against her body. She exhales and continues, "but I don't think they like me very much and want me to leave. I need your help, Yi. If they won't talk to me, maybe you could ask them?"
She casts her gaze away towards the ground, seemingly shy. Yi is taken aback by her reaction to such a simple request, but feels it's a simple task he should be able to help her with.
"It's no problem, I would be happy to help," he reassures her with a little more confidence than he actually feels. He also adds, "if they won't tell me either, maybe we can use this." He reaches into his bag and procures the journal, its oiled leather giving off a vague sheen in the bright gray light of the sobbing sky.
Hongmi's eyes are fixed on the journal, and something seems to stir inside of her, causing her to shift slightly and sway back and forth, examining it from one angle to the next. "What is it?" she looks up at Yi with an inquisitive perplexity.
"It's like a compilation of stories and pictures from these lands, I was given it by the Head Priest at the temple," he elucidates with a hint of pride. Hongmi bobs her head and listens intently as Yi explains some of the things he has learned about the local land, how he was able to travel to this village without a guide, and his errand to retrieve the lotus roots for the impending winter.
Hongmi smiles broadly this time, her eyes squinting until almost shut, and she let's a small giggle that has a hushed, breathy air. "I think we were supposed to meet on the way to this village, Yi, and I think I can trust you to help me."
Yi smiles a little at this, trying to bury the burning at the tip of his ears. The encounter with Hongmi on the road, the unfinished scroll, and now this tale of a lingering darkness – it weaves together a tapestry inside Yi's mind. He realizes that his journey to this village is more than a simple errand; it is a path leading him towards a greater purpose, the purpose he knew he should fulfil as a monk: to help others.
His mother's face flashes before him quickly, the last smile she gave him before she turned away. He shakes the guilt from his mind. "I'll help you, Hongmi. It feels like our paths were meant to cross," Yi asserts.
Hongmi's smile, filled with gratitude and hope, lights up her face. "Thank you, Yi. I knew you'd understand. I feel, together, we can find out what destroyed my home."
Under the ancient willow, amidst the whispers of rain and secrets, the wind begins to stir and the rain starts to bear down harder. Yi puts away the journal and, both sheathed under the one umbrella, they run in the mud back to the Guest House, a new leg of their journey needing to be planned.