My name is Zhang Santong, born in the ninth month of 1982 according to the lunar calendar. I am the third child in my family. According to my grandfather, my fate lacked the element of wood, which is why I was named Santong, meaning "three pines."
I was born into a strange, large family. I have six uncles, my grandfather is still alive, and I have more than ten cousins. Nearly all the men in my family work in the same line of work, known in our hometown as "Yin-Yang." From a young age, all the male members of the family must learn calligraphy, chant scriptures, practice Yin-Yang steps, and train in the Zhang family's martial arts. It could be said that learning Yin-Yang is part of growing up — if you don't excel in school, you become a Yin-Yang Cultivator.
"Yin-Yang" is a profession related to performing rituals for the deceased and practicing feng shui, somewhat similar to the role of a Taoist priest. When a family loses an elder, they invite a "Yin-Yang" Cultivator to chant scriptures and conduct rituals to guide the soul of the deceased. For poorer families, three "Yin-Yang" Cultivators would be invited for what is called a "Guangguang Scripture" ceremony. For families slightly better off, five or seven Cultivators would be invited for a "Little Three Yuan" or "Big Three Yuan" ceremony. Wealthier families would invite more than ten Cultivators along with monks to perform the ritual; this is called a "Daoist Altar." It is said that when the deceased enters the underworld, the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guides them, while the Ten Kings of Hell greet them.
Whether it's a Guangguang Scripture, a Little or Big Three Yuan, or a Daoist Altar, our family's "Yin-Yang" Cultivators were always considered the best candidates for the job. Business was booming, and our family was the only one in the region offering these services.
My hometown is also a strange place, located in the Qilian Mountains on the border of Qinghai and Gansu provinces. It's called Jiusi Zhang. The name Jiusi Zhang has a fascinating origin. There is a mountain in the Qilian range called Wolong Mountain, which has steep cliffs on all four sides and pine forests everywhere. More than three-quarters of the mountain seems to have been cut off by some mysterious force, creating a square-shaped mountain top about 900 meters wide. This is how Jiusi Zhang got its name.
In the center of Jiusi Zhang stands a birchwood pillar, about half a meter high. My grandfather told me it used to be a nine-meter-high birch flagpole. Whenever a thunderstorm was about to hit, the people of Jiusi Zhang would hang a flag on the flagpole. This flag would stop the storm, protecting the crops from hail. It was said to never fail. My grandfather said it had existed since his grandfather's time, but no one knew when the tradition of hanging the flag had begun.
There is another story passed down by the elders: during the late Qing Dynasty, one day a thunderstorm suddenly struck over Wolong Mountain. The sky turned black, and thunder rumbled. The flag was not hung in time, and after a few hours, the storm gradually receded. People saw a large, snake-like object rising with the clouds. Many said, "This is undoubtedly a dragon!" Hence, people began to call the mountain Wolong Mountain.
In the 1970s, the birch flagpole was sawn off to be used as a beam for the commune, and the flag mysteriously disappeared.
At the foot of Wolong Mountain flows the Datong River. In the 1980s, the economy along the riverbank boomed. A paved road was built winding from Wolong Mountain up to Jiusi Zhang, which promoted the development of Jiusi Zhang. My third uncle, Zhang Youfu, became the most educated person in Jiusi Zhang. He boldly left the village and started a timber processing factory at the foot of Wolong Mountain. From then on, wealth poured in. Several times, my third uncle wanted to move the whole family to the provincial capital to enjoy a better life, but my grandfather firmly refused. He said the mountain was a rare blessed land, and whoever slept there was destined to become a great person. My grandfather insisted on staying, even urging my father to have more children in hopes that one of us might become a great figure.
I was one of those children my grandfather encouraged my father to have. Since the one-child policy had already been implemented in the 1980s, my birth was considered over the limit, and the family had to pay a fine. Many of my cousins also faced the same issue, and my third uncle ended up paying all the fines.
When I was five, my third uncle gave each household in the family a black-and-white television. When the TV series Huo Yuanjia aired, all the boys in Jiusi Zhang were so proud because our family also had its own martial arts. Since we were in the "Yin-Yang" profession, the family had a set of peach wood swords, one for each child. Under the guidance of my two older brothers and several cousins, I almost beat up every other boy in Jiusi Zhang.
As a child, I was the most flamboyant among my peers, but I was also my grandfather's favorite. During the time the Fengshen Yanyi series was airing on TV, I admired the character Nezha. When I saw him riding on two fire wheels, wearing the Qiankun Circle, I thought he looked so cool. I begged my grandfather to make me two fire wheels and a Qiankun Circle. My grandfather, though helpless, couldn't make fire wheels, so he made me a Qiankun Circle out of steel wire. For several days, I had great fun playing with it, but I accidentally broke the nose of a boy named Yang. As a result, I was sent to my third uncle's house in the provincial capital to study.
My grandfather and father told me to study hard, or I would end up as a "Yin-Yang" Cultivator. But since I had already decided to become a "Yin-Yang" like my grandfather, I didn't take studying very seriously in the provincial capital.
My third uncle's younger son, Zhang Fuhong, was about my age, and we were in the same class. He always ranked first in exams, while I ranked last. My third uncle would say that I was destined to become a "Yin-Yang," but I didn't accept that. Even though I had set my sights on becoming an outstanding "Yin-Yang," I couldn't accept being told this. So, I studied hard. By the time I entered middle school, my rank rose to 25th out of 30 students. When I took the high school entrance exam, I missed the mark for a prestigious school by just a few points. Eventually, my third uncle used his connections to ensure my cousin and I could remain in the same class again.
In my first year of high school, around mid-October, my cousin, my third uncle, and I received a phone call saying that my grandfather was on his deathbed. By the time we returned to Jiusi Zhang, my grandfather had already passed away. The whole family was there, but ironically, my grandfather, who had spent his life performing rituals for others, had no one to perform one for him. We all wore mourning clothes, and despite many of us being "Yin-Yang" Cultivators, we could not perform the ritual because of the mourning customs. My grandfather hated monks, so they were definitely not invited.
In the end, my grandfather's funeral was very quiet. My third uncle, in anger, declared that the Zhang family would never again engage in the "Yin-Yang" profession. Anyone who tried would be severed from the family. No one dared disobey him; after all, he was the family's financial pillar.
Thus, the Zhang family stopped practicing "Yin-Yang." All of my grandfather's belongings, along with the family's "Yin-Yang" robes, peach wood swords, and other items, were cremated at my grandfather's grave.
I was the one who cried the hardest when my grandfather passed. After the burial, I stayed at his grave alone for several days. When I finally left, I noticed that among the ashes at his grave, there was a small triangular flag that hadn't burned. Curiously, I picked it up.
This flag was only about the size of a palm, and its yellowish surface showed no signs of being burned. It was covered in diagonal black lightning-like patterns, and the edges were decorated with a dragon design. The flagpole, as thin as chopsticks, was made of an unknown material but had also remained unburned.
I stared at this little flag, thinking it was the only thing my grandfather had left behind. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn't help but silently cry. My tears fell onto the flag, and as I gazed at it, I thought about my grandfather's every word and smile. Unbeknownst to me, my lips were bleeding, and a few drops of my blood also fell onto the flag.
At that moment, I had a strange feeling that this flag was somehow connected to me by blood, just as I was connected to my grandfather. It felt so close and familiar.