Words of the Demon

**Lanruo Temple Night Watch · Night of the 17th, 9th month**

(Night. One lamp. The bolt drawn.)

In the daytime, I did not go to the white poplar.

When she left she said "do not go," and so I did not go. The words would sound absurd said to anyone — a grave, a tree, a shadow, a "do not go." Yet I sat at the window a whole day, counting the daylight as it moved from one end of the window paper to the other, and truly I did not take one step toward the rear of the hall.

In the afternoon I stood under the eaves and looked once. The white poplar stood in the daylight, its leaves green, unmoving. A wind passed over the temple wall and the iron bells at the eaves rang; the tree did not stir a single leaf. I watched a long while and thought: how can a tree "watch you." But all the same, I did not walk over.

At dusk I met the old monk before the hall. He sat on the steps holding his bamboo staff, as if waiting for something. I went up and asked: "Master, in years past, did any women ever lodge in this temple?"

The old monk looked up at me, and after a while said: "This temple has lodged only monks."

"Never any women? — young women, lodging by night?"

The old monk did not answer. He tapped his staff on the steps and said: "A passing traveler, why ask such things."

"Last night, I heard someone speak of certain matters."

"Better not to hear than to hear." The old monk rose, and walked toward the rear of the hall with his staff. After a few steps he stopped, and without turning back, said: "If you have heard something, you should be on your way by dawn tomorrow."

"Master." I called after him. "Beneath that tree — how many people are buried?"

The old monk did not turn. Step by step he went toward the rear of the hall. The dusk closed in behind him. I stood on the steps and heard a cough from behind the hall, and then, nothing more.