Narration: Fei
A memory of the past. Afterschool. Here I see an empty classroom all organized to the point it looked cleaner than an average hospital. I can see my schoolmates play sports outside the room. Some ball game I believe. Beyond the schoolyard is the skyline of Beijing. The city itself had multiple massive skyscrapers jutting out like teeth of a great beast. Part of a large infrastructure plan enacted many years ago. I could see a slight reflection of myself on the window. It was me long before I died. My eyes were blue then and I was far less pale. Still, people thought I was a weirdo back then too. I heard the voice of an older man, my English teacher. He looked like any typical Chinese man in his 60s though something about him was rather unusual that I couldn’t describe to this day. He was always on my case. He had a rather harsh tone, but his accent was not of Beijing. Don’t remember where he was from. He was very peculiar.
“Fei, 你在窗邊做什麼？ 過來。” (Fei, What are you doing by the window? Come over here.)
“對不起老師。 好像大家都在外面玩.” (Sorry, teacher. It seems that everyone is playing outside.)
“也許如果你及時完成了你的工作，你就可以在外面玩了.” (Maybe if you finish your work in time, you can play outside.) He didn’t even look at me as he was grading assignments from his desk.
“你知道我無法完成它。 這是一篇一萬字的文章.” (You know I can’t get it done. This is a 10,000 word article.)
“回到我那個時代，我們手工寫了這樣的文章，而不是打字.” (Back in my day, we wrote articles like this by hand instead of typing.)
“真的嗎?” (Really?)
“不。只是喜歡看你受苦，小女兒.” (No. I just love watching you suffer, little daughter.) He laughs in a way you expect from Chinese teachers.
He always did that. Back then, he would give so many assignments, I thought he was setting me up for failure. Now, I realize he was preparing me for so much for the future. I wondered if he knew what direction my life was going back then. He always called me his little daughter, a nickname for what he says is for his favorite student. Of course, that also means he was always the hardest on me in class by giving me so much work to do.
As our conversation continued, I sighed from my teacher having to call me by that stupid name.
“你知道我不喜歡被這樣稱呼.” (You know I don’t like being called that.)
He looked up at me and stopped grading. “不在乎。 今天你練習英語了嗎?” (Don’t care. Did you practice English today?)
“我學習了，老師.” (I studied, teacher.)
He switched languages. “Then why are you not speaking English right now?”
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“I was suppose to–”
He nodded. “Yes, Gotta see if my little daughter really was studying.”
I just groaned. “So, what do I have to do to get out of class?”
“Not much. I just want to tell you about your book report. It’ll be due after the weekend.” He stood up and reached for a book on his desk.
My teacher tossed the book from his desk at me. I caught it. I saw that the cover page had a jiangshi attacking some victims. The creature itself had a stiff posture, was wearing some stereotypical Qing official uniform, and had a paper talisman over its face. In English, it translated to: “The Jiangshi Menace. Wait, does anyone else have to do this assignment?”
He just shrugged. “That’s not important. What matters is that you finish the report in English. But tell me, what do you know about jiangshi?”
“Not much. It’s what the West would call our zombies. Or are they vampires?”
“Doesn’t matter what the West calls it. Still a monster, right? Instead of blood or flesh, it is supposed to feed on qi, the vital essence of life for all things.”
“And this is important because?”
“Don’t be a smartass. Because such stories are reflections of our society. Especially from the past. Learn your past to know your future. The idea of the Jiangshi is born from anti-Manchu sentiment, you know?”
“I didn’t.” I was telling the truth. History wasn’t my strong subject back then.
“That is why you have to learn. So many people use the concepts of monsters to demonize others or ideas that they don’t want to understand. I want you to be better than that.”
I looked at my teacher and nodded. “I understand. Do the jiangshi have weaknesses?”
“Mirrors, vinegar, the paper talismans used to bind them, peach tree wood, rooster calls, fire, I could go on.”
“That’s a lot of weaknesses,” I replied.
“Much of it came from times of superstition. Such stories have many ways that they are told. So next week, you have the report due.”
I was about to turn around and leave, “Right. I should be going.”
“Before you go, I have something to say,” he said as I stopped for a moment.
He paused before he continued. “You might not be the best, achieving student since your grades are average at best even when you try your hardest. But I always saw potential in you just by the little things you do. Such small acts add up over time. And I have been watching your actions very closely.”
“Uh, that’s not weird at all,” I said in my most deadpan tone.
“What did I tell you about being a smartass? 5 point deduction.”
I tried to interject, “But…”
“Don’t interrupt. You have a lot of work to do to be better. But I see you try your best to be a well-rounded person, even when others treat you like shit. It will be important for the future to come.”
“The future to come?”
He nodded. “Yes, you will know what that means.”
I thought for a moment of his words then. The future to come. To think I would become a jiangshi myself was not something I expected back then. I am not even that stereotypical variant found in that story I read. I am not wearing some stuffy Qing garb. Not really rotting at all thanks to the qi I already have. I don’t have a stupid talisman to turn me into some thrall. And thank goodness my “flesh” does not stiffen, so I don’t have to hop around like a rabbit. Even I wouldn’t take myself seriously if that happened.
Plus, I don’t have to feed off of humans for their qi, which is good. I can get much of it depending how the qi flows in a room, especially in the presence of technology. Something related to unconventional forms of feng shui and cultivation perhaps? It deviates from classic depictions. Access to the Static is basically a well where I can sustain myself without worry. Then again, how I came to be was not even normal for most necromantic rituals.
I thought back again what my teacher meant about the future until I felt a hard jab to the face, and I snap back to reality.