The Palace

Any man or woman who lives in or near Chun-Ling can walk down a twisting dirt path to the Northwest. It goes through the farmers’ fields, through the rolling hills, into the majestic pine forests, to the edge of the towering mist-wreathed Wudang Mountains. Here, the path turns to the Northeast and goes up into the range. It cuts between the rocky peaks, sometimes dipping down, sometimes inclined. New bridges have been erected alongside the fallen remains of older ones that have been washed away by capricious rivers. Eventually, a fork in the path will be reached. The right path goes on for about a mile before terminating at the highway leading into Xiangyan. The left is a narrow overgrown path leading somewhere only the locals retain memory of.

Should one decide to take this left path, they will find that rockfalls and fallen trees have obstructed some parts of it that must be carefully climbed over. The mountains maintain their silent, sullen and ancient guard over the path, looming imposingly over a traveller. As one nears the end of the path, they will see crumbling granite statues of lions on their pedestals. Fierce lions; some of which are now missing a claw, a nose, or a tail.

Following the path to its finish will lead the traveller to a wooden gate reinforced by iron strips. The wood is heavily rotted, rust covers every inch of the iron, and the gate as a whole is nearly falling off its hinges, which are fastened to the rocky walls of the mountains. This is not to say, of course, that the gate can be easily moved: the sodden wood and dense mud surrounding the base of the gate hardly make for easy progress. With some significant effort though, a person can wrench the gate open and reveal a courtyard and a grand palace. Or at least, it formerly was grand, for it is now in a spectacular state of disrepair. The courtyard may have once been beautiful, but it is now overwhelmed by weeds, and trees that used to be small and well-pruned are now quite large and unruly. Small animals scuttle about unseen in the brush, making a soft rustling with each furtive step. Mists descend lazily from the mountains and hang in the air around the whole area, along with a dreadfully morose atmosphere that would certainly be quite disquieting to the faint of heart.

If one chooses to proceed, however, a closer look can be taken at the palace: The stone lóng dragons perched on the corners of the roof are quite weather-worn, making their obstinate and valliant last stand against the forces of wind and rain. Portions of the palace exterior are held up by tarred wooden pillars which were once painted a striking red, but have now transitioned into a pale and mottled rose colour. In the centre of the outer wall, the pillars form an open corridor leading to the palace's threshold which was once guarded by a pair of resolute wooden doors that have, in recent years, fallen inward. Should one venture inside, they will find a succession of passages and doors which line a hallway leading straight ahead. 

The jade and gold are long gone, pilfered by thieves and unscrupulous travellers in years past. Wispy shreds of curtains hang limply about some of the windows, eaten away by insects and moisture. Moss and vines creep up the cracked stone walls. Severely faded murals are faintly visible beneath the surreptitiously invasive flora. One must take care to walk cautiously accross the uneaven and rutted floor to avoid stumbling on a raised stone or twisting an ankle in a hole. Bricks, rocks and dirt lie scattered across the floor, along with beams and planks where parts of the ceilling have fallen in, allowing cold, grey sunlight to illuminate one's dreary surroundings. A carven figurine or two may be found lying amongst the rubble.

The whole place smells of moisture. Rain and mist have spent years seeping  into the wood and the spaces between stones. The ruins perpetually bear the smell of coming rain, mingled with the earthy odours of wet-rotted beams and the sweet, fresh scent of the belligerent greenery that now holds sway over the palace.

What was once an envied home for humans now provides shelter for birds, rats and snakes. Sparrows and crows perch in the rafters while garden snakes and adders silently pursue rodents through the maze of bricks and stones. The superstitious say that one can hear the whispers of spirits echoing down the halls and passages; some angry, some mischievious, some curious, some lonely.

If the main hallway is followed to its end, there will be a large room filled with weathered statues and moth-eaten tapestries. At the opposite end of the room, there is a raised platform with a few steps leading up to it. Perhaps a throne once sat upon it. On either side of the steps, a few faded red hanzi are barely visible.

The left side reads: 何欽李是這個紀念碑永恆的主。

The right side reads: 他的力量才可能渾然天成顫抖。

"Ho Chin Li is lord of this monument to eternity."

 "May nature itself tremble before his power."