〈Parallel Universes〉 平行時空

12、〈幽禁之書〉

我的麻吉朋友老K，一直是個懷才不遇的血汗編劇，他的命運多舛，我替他診斷後，歸納出幾點原因：(1)遇人不淑，被無良的製片、導演騙去做白工；(2)替人作嫁，給大牌編劇捉刀，人家吃肉他喝湯；(3)來者不拒，而且使命必達，但報酬和付出的心血不成比例。這份診斷書，他其實心知肚明，可他是隻蟑螂打死不退，始終認為自己只是時運不濟，且沒遇到伯樂提攜。
所幸我跟老K不是同行，我是寫流行小說的寫手，愛作夢的學生族是我主要的讀者群，我的小說裡經常使用偶遇和巧合這些老梗，我會精心布置一些弔胃口的懸念，但我不像九把刀那樣刻意灑狗血，把許多情節寫得很煽情很重鹹。對於我的小說，老K一向嗤之以鼻，說我那些小說搬不上螢幕，都是「擺在夜市的倒閉工廠出清貨」。可殘酷的現實是，幾家出版社每年都會搶著跟我簽約，光是簽約金和版稅收入，讓我每一季可以出國旅行個一週，日子過得很滋潤。
旅行是我給自己紓壓同時充電的主要方法，今年夏天我去日本旅行，在京都老街閒晃時，心血來潮拐進一家老舊的二手書攤，老闆是個滿頭銀髮的老人，但精神和體力看起來還不錯，他主動招呼我。
「小夥子，我這家店可是一座寶山，只要你有心，絕對不會令你失望」。
「老前輩，我想跟你打聽推理大師松本清張的處女作《西鄉紙幣》，收錄這篇小說的小說集。我網路上查到這篇小說在1950年獲得直木賞。」
老人家聽我說完，以一對探照燈似的眼睛盯著我十幾秒，爽朗地笑問：「你喜歡推理小說？」
我點頭說：「我想轉型，往推理和奇幻小說領域發展。」
「你幾歲時開始寫小說？現在寫的是哪類型小說？」
我登時臉紅，吶吶地回答說：「18歲寫出處女作，25歲寫出第一本暢銷書，但都是寫些時下流行的校園、小資族和職場戀情小說。」
「那就是流行小說囉？你現在幾歲？」
「35歲。」我搔著額頭傻笑。
「你聽說過嗎？松本清張41歲才寫出處女作《西鄉紙幣》，從此一鳴驚人。你35歲就有轉型的想法，可見你未來是有機會更上層樓的。」老人家鼓舞的話語，當下我聽得很受用。
「可我沒有松本大師的本事，一路囊括那些大獎啊！因為我生長在台灣，一個淺碟子文化形態的島嶼。」
老人家語帶神秘說：「那麼，我給你一次脫胎換骨的機會，協助你實現轉型的願望，你跟我去書房。」
好奇心的驅使下，我跟著老人家進到他的書房，書房裡四面都是古書，靠窗的角落裡擺著一張太師椅。老人家走到太師椅旁，從椅背上方的書架裡抽出兩本古書，封面是皮質，上頭分別燙著金字《命運之書》和《幽禁之書》，遞給我。
「小夥子，你猜猜看這兩本書的封面，使用哪種皮革？」
我摩搓著皮革表面，揣測說︰「感覺像是鹿皮或羔羊皮。」
老人家搖著手指說：「很接近，但都不對。這兩本書的封面使用的是人皮。」
「喔！是人皮，那麼這其中一定有故事。」我聽了頭皮開始發麻，雖然我故作鎮定。
「一對情侶相約殉情後，被領主剝下來的胸部和背部皮膚。你聽過西鄉隆盛吧？」
「聽過啊！德川幕府後期，薩摩藩的大將軍，明治維新三傑。請問前輩，你提起西鄉是不是告訴我，他跟松本清張的那篇《西鄉紙幣》有關？」
老人家輕拍我的肩膀微笑說：「不錯嘛！小夥子，沒想到你對日本的近代史有幾分涉獵。西鄉紙幣就是西鄉隆盛舉兵後發行的，性質上是薩摩軍的軍票。」
「不瞞您說，我大學時代修日本近代史時，閱讀過松本的那篇《西鄉紙幣》漢文翻譯本。」我如實陳述。
「回到原來的話題，這兩本書交給你，但你只能二選一。」
「二選一？為什麼？」我不解地問。
老人家正色說：「這兩本書都被魔法師施過怨念咒，彼此相生相剋，你不能同時使用或擁有它們，否則你會招來殺身的禍端。」
「好吧！那麼，我可以把其中一冊送給我的好友嗎？」
「可以，但你只能寄給他，不能跟他碰面。以防你和他私下交換。好了，這兩本書你選哪一本？」
沒想到老人家竟然設想到這點上：「我能先問這兩本書的不同處嗎？」
「那可不行，等你選了以後，我會告訴你接下來怎麼做。」
「一定得現在就做出決定嗎？」我感覺自己正面臨一個重大抉擇。
老人表情嚴肅說：「是的，以你的直覺來做出決定。」
「好吧！我挑這本《幽禁之書》。老前輩，接下來我該怎麼做？」
「你把那本《命運之書》寄出去，然後留在這邊陪伴我十年。」
「十年？」我直覺自己似乎被套牢了。
「沒錯，這十年裡，你每年必須完成一部小說，而且要我看過，認為可以面世，正式發表才算數。」
「可如果老前輩看不滿意呢？或者十年內我寫不到十本小說呢？」
「十年期限一到，我就會離開這裡，把這家書店交給你經營，所以我要你十年內寫十本小說給我，我看滿意後會逐一幫你規劃，參加國內的重要比賽並安排出版。」
「好吧！」我心想，反正我留在台灣也沒什麼搞頭，終究只是二流的流行小說作家，我隨即又問：「這本《幽禁之書》我可以打開來看嗎？」
老人這回笑得更神秘：「當然可以，但裡面是完全空白的。」
「完全空白？那我怎麼開始我的小說創作呢？」我這下被搞糊塗了。
「這本書會跟你熱切互動，當你開始在上面書寫小說後。」
「老前輩，您的意思是，它是一本有靈魂的魔法書？」
「是的，那個附在書本裡的靈魂，就是殉情情侶中的女人。」老人接著說：「接下來的十年，你必須留在日本，每年當你交出小說後，我會給你半個月假期，你可以在日本各地旅行，就是不能回去台灣，還有，不能和那位獲贈《命運之書》的朋友見面或通信息，即使你聽到任何有關於他的消息，切記！這是你我之間的約定，因為我要確保你能不受任何因素影響，心無旁鶩地完成那十本小說。」
「我可以再請教一道問題嗎？」
「你可以再提問最後兩道問題。」老人家的態度變得親切和藹。
「請問使用這本書，有些什麼禁忌嗎？」
「是有一些禁忌，但我只知其中兩個，其一，你不能把自己過去的經歷寫進故事裡，或者把自己當成故事裡的主要角色。」
「為什麼？」
老人家表情突然變得嚴厲說：「因為你會為此付出代價，可別不信邪！」說到這裡，他坐到那張太師椅上，彎腰拉起左腳褲管說：「我在最後一本小說裡，把自己當成男主角，在故事中我是個馬術師，我寫到馬術師在最後一場決賽中不幸落馬，被自己的愛馬踩斷了左小腿，果然沒多久，我就在旅行途中，被一部房車給撞上，房車把我的左小腿當場輾碎，然後我被送去醫院，醫生不跟我囉嗦，直接把我的左小腿給切除了。」
聽到這裡，我的背脊整個發冷，心想:「這部書，真的那麼邪門嗎？」
「我想再問最後一個問題，以我有限的日本語文程度，真的可以寫出令老前輩滿意的小說來嗎？還有，我的小說發表時，可以使用我的筆名嗎？」
「小伙子，你這兩道問題，就當作一道好了。其一，你的日本語文程度，你手上那本書會逐漸幫你加廣加深，只要你每天勤於書寫和它互動；其二，你的書我會幫你找個合適的筆名，但發表之後，這世上只有我知道你是小說的原作者。」
我暗自嘀咕著：「哇哩嘞？這遊戲規則訂成這樣，我如何能成名呢？」
沒想到老人家似乎看穿我的心事，提醒我說：「一個小說家一生的努力，就在於他的小說獲得讀者廣大的迴響，而且被一代一代人流傳下去，不就是這樣嗎？」
我點頭微笑，作品能夠流傳開來，世代相傳，像《紅樓夢》或《源氏物語》那樣
，的確就是我最大的心願了。
當晚，我把隨身行李搬進這家名為「雅舍書屋」的舊書攤，我的書房在二樓後方，
推窗往外望，是一片幽靜的梅樹林。從此，我開始為期十年的書寫生涯，那本《幽禁之書》和嵐山老前輩，成為陪伴我的兩位師傅。
一年後，我的第一本奇幻小說：《天堂旅館》正式問世，一舉拿下ファンタジー‧ホラー新人賞。「嵐山清揚」這個筆名開始引起讀者興趣。
一年一個文學大賞，到了第十年，我幾乎拿遍了日本國內小說文學賞，直木賞、芥川賞、讀賣文學賞、谷崎潤一郎賞、推理作家協會賞…。「嵐山清揚」這個筆名不僅在日本國內家喻戶曉，而且知名度直追村上春樹。我的小說作品，每一部都被改編成電視劇和電影，只是，「嵐山清揚」本尊從未在鏡頭前曝光過，所以，沒人知道我就是這號紅透半邊天的人物。每回領賞和接受記者採訪，都是嵐山老前輩的孫子代表我出面，而我，一直是個神祕的「藏鏡人」。
這一年歲末，從台灣傳來一則令我心驚的噩耗，名電影電視編劇老K，被最高法院判處死刑定讞，罪名是連續殺人分屍。雖然心驚不已，但我仍遵守和嵐山老前輩的約定，沒有回去台灣探視老K。
當我交出第十本小說給老前輩時，老前輩遞給我一冊劇本改編小說，作者就是與我闊別十年的麻吉朋友老K。我瞄了一眼書名：《蝴蝶連續殺人疑案》，立即心知肚明，肯定是老K把自己當成故事主角，觸犯了那本人皮書的禁忌，以致給自己招來厄運。

12. “The Book of Confinement”
My good friend Old K has always been a struggling screenwriter whose talent has never received the recognition it deserves. His career has been full of misfortune, and after analyzing his situation, I came up with several reasons: (1) he keeps falling in with the wrong people, getting tricked by unscrupulous producers and directors into doing unpaid work; (2) he is always writing for others, ghostwriting for big-name screenwriters while they get the meat and he gets only the soup; and (3) he never turns down a job and always fulfills his mission, yet his compensation is completely out of proportion to the time, effort, and emotional energy he puts into his work. He knows this diagnosis perfectly well, but like a cockroach that refuses to die, he never gives up. He has always believed that he is simply unlucky and has never encountered a true patron who would recognize his talent and give him a helping hand.
Fortunately, Old K and I are not in the same line of work. I write popular fiction, and my main readership consists of students and young people who love to dream. I frequently use old-fashioned devices such as chance encounters and coincidences in my novels, and I carefully arrange suspenseful cliffhangers to whet the reader’s appetite. However, unlike Giddens Ko, I do not deliberately pile on melodrama or turn every plot development into something excessively emotional and sensational. Old K has always looked down on my novels, saying that none of them could ever make it onto the screen and that they were nothing more than “clearance goods from a bankrupt factory being sold at a night market.” The cruel reality, however, is that several publishing houses compete with one another every year to sign me. The advances and royalties alone are enough for me to travel abroad for a week every season, and I live quite comfortably.
Travel is my main way of relieving stress and recharging myself. This summer, I went to Japan, and while wandering through the old streets of Kyoto, I suddenly felt like taking a detour into an old secondhand bookstore. The owner was an elderly man with a full head of silver hair, but he still appeared to be in good spirits and reasonably strong. He greeted me first.
“Young man, my shop is a treasure mountain. As long as you are willing to look, I guarantee you will not be disappointed.”
“Sir, I wanted to ask you about Seicho Matsumoto’s first novel, The Saigo Currency, and the collection in which it was published. I found online that the story won the Naoki Prize in 1950.”
After listening to me, the old man stared at me for more than ten seconds with a pair of eyes as bright as searchlights. Then he laughed heartily and asked, “Do you like mystery novels?”
I nodded. “I’m thinking about changing direction and developing my writing in the areas of mystery and fantasy.”
“How old were you when you started writing novels? What kind of novels do you write now?”
I immediately blushed and answered hesitantly, “I wrote my first novel when I was eighteen, and my first bestseller when I was twenty-five, but they were all popular novels about school life, young professionals, and workplace romance.”
“So you write popular fiction? How old are you now?”
“Thirty-five.” I scratched my forehead and gave an awkward grin.
“Have you ever heard that Seicho Matsumoto was forty-one when he wrote his first novel, The Saigo Currency, and became an overnight sensation after that? You are only thirty-five and already thinking about changing direction. That means you have a chance to rise to an even higher level in the future.” The old man’s words of encouragement were exactly what I needed to hear.
“But I don’t have Master Matsumoto’s ability to sweep up all those major literary prizes! I grew up in Taiwan, an island with a shallow cultural environment.”
The old man spoke mysteriously. “Then I will give you a chance to transform yourself completely and help you fulfill your wish to change direction. Come with me to my study.”
Driven by curiosity, I followed the old man into his study. Every wall was lined with old books, and in a corner beside the window stood a large wooden armchair. The old man walked over to it and pulled two ancient books from the shelf above the back of the chair. Their covers were made of leather, with the titles The Book of Destiny and The Book of Confinement embossed in gold. He handed them to me.
“Young man, can you guess what kind of leather was used for the covers of these two books?”
I rubbed the surface of the leather between my fingers and ventured, “It feels like deerskin or lambskin.”
The old man shook his finger. “Very close, but neither is correct. The covers of these two books are made of human skin.”
“Oh! Human skin? Then there must be a story behind them.” As I listened, my scalp began to tingle, although I pretended to remain calm.
“The skin from the chests and backs of a pair of lovers who agreed to die together was stripped from their bodies by their lord. You have heard of Saigo Takamori, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have! He was a great military commander of the Satsuma domain during the final years of the Tokugawa shogunate, and one of the Three Great Figures of the Meiji Restoration. Sir, may I ask why you brought up Saigo? Are you telling me that he has something to do with Matsumoto Seicho’s The Saigo Currency?”
The old man gently patted my shoulder and smiled. “Not bad, young man. I didn’t expect you to know a fair amount about modern Japanese history. The Saigo currency was issued after Saigo Takamori raised an army. In nature, it was military currency issued by the Satsuma forces.”
“To be honest, when I took a course in modern Japanese history in college, I read a Chinese translation of Matsumoto’s The Saigo Currency.”
“Back to the original subject. I will give these two books to you, but you may choose only one.”
“Choose only one? Why?” I asked, puzzled.
The old man became serious. “Both books have been subjected to a curse of resentment by a sorcerer. They generate and counteract each other, so you cannot use or possess them at the same time. Otherwise, you will bring disaster upon yourself and may even lose your life.”
“All right. Then can I give one of them to my best friend?”
“You can, but you may only mail it to him. You cannot meet him in person, just in case you secretly exchange the books with each other. Now, which of these two books will you choose?”
I had not expected the old man to have thought that far ahead. “Can I first ask what the difference is between the two books?”
“That will not do. After you make your choice, I will tell you what to do next.”
“Do I really have to make the decision right now?” I felt as though I were facing a momentous choice.
The old man’s expression was solemn. “Yes. Make your decision according to your intuition.”
“All right. I choose The Book of Confinement. Sir, what should I do next?”
“You will mail The Book of Destiny to your friend, and then stay here with me for ten years.”
“Ten years?” Instinctively, I felt as though I had just been trapped.
“That’s right. During those ten years, you must complete one novel every year, and I must read it and consider it worthy of publication. Only then will it count as a completed novel.”
“But what if you are not satisfied with it? Or what if I cannot write ten novels within ten years?”
“When the ten-year period is over, I will leave this place and hand this bookstore over to you to run. That is why I want you to write ten novels for me within ten years. Once I am satisfied with them, I will help you plan each one, enter major literary competitions in Japan, and arrange for their publication.”
“All right!” I thought to myself, It’s not as though I have much of a future if I stay in Taiwan anyway. In the end, I’ll probably remain nothing more than a second-rate popular novelist. I immediately asked another question. “Can I open The Book of Confinement and take a look?”
The old man smiled even more mysteriously this time. “Of course you can. But the pages inside are completely blank.”
“Completely blank? Then how am I supposed to begin writing my novel?”
I was completely confused.
“This book will interact with you intensely once you begin writing your novel in it.”
“Sir, do you mean that it is a magical book with a soul?”
“Yes. The soul attached to the book belongs to the woman among the pair of lovers who died together.”
The old man continued, “For the next ten years, you must remain in Japan. Every year, after you hand in your novel, I will give you half a month off, and you may travel anywhere in Japan. But you cannot return to Taiwan. You also cannot meet or communicate with the friend who receives The Book of Destiny. Even if you hear any news about him, remember this: it is an agreement between the two of us. I must make sure that you remain unaffected by any outside factors and devote yourself wholeheartedly to completing those ten novels.”
“May I ask one more question?”
“You may ask two final questions.” The old man’s attitude had become warm and gentle.
“Are there any taboos or restrictions regarding the use of this book?”
“There are indeed several restrictions, but I only know two of them. First, you cannot write your own past experiences into the story, nor can you make yourself the main character of the story.”
“Why?”
The old man’s expression suddenly became stern. “Because you will pay a price for it. Don’t underestimate the power of the supernatural!” As he spoke, he sat down in the wooden armchair, bent over, and pulled up the trouser leg on his left side. “In my last novel, I made myself the male protagonist. In the story, I was an equestrian. I wrote that during the final competition, the equestrian unfortunately fell from his horse, and his beloved horse trampled and broke his left lower leg. Sure enough, not long afterward, while I was traveling, I was hit by a motor home. It crushed my left lower leg on the spot. Then I was taken to the hospital, where the doctor didn’t waste any time talking to me and simply amputated my left lower leg.”
My entire spine turned cold as I listened. I thought to myself, Is this book really that sinister?
“I want to ask one last question. With my limited knowledge of the Japanese language, can I really write novels that will satisfy you? And when my novels are published, can I use my pen name?”
“Young man, let’s treat those two questions as one. First, as for your Japanese language ability, the book in your hands will gradually broaden and deepen your command of the language, as long as you diligently write and interact with it every day. Second, I will find you an appropriate pen name for your books. But after they are published, I will be the only person in the world who knows that you are the original author.”
I muttered to myself, What the hell? With the rules of this game set up like this, how am I ever going to become famous?
Unexpectedly, the old man seemed to see straight through my thoughts and reminded me, “A novelist spends a lifetime striving for one thing: for his novels to receive a tremendous response from readers and to be passed down from one generation to the next. Isn’t that what it is all about?”
I nodded with a smile. To have my work live on and be passed down through generations, like Dream of the Red Chamber or The Tale of Genji, was indeed my greatest wish.
That evening, I moved my luggage into the old bookstore called “Elegant Retreat Book House.” My study was at the back of the second floor. When I opened the window and looked outside, I could see a quiet grove of plum trees.
From that moment on, I began a ten-year writing career. The Book of Confinement and the old man from Arashiyama became my two mentors and companions.
A year later, my first fantasy novel, The Paradise Inn, was officially published and won the Fantasy-Horror Newcomer Award. The pen name “Arashiyama Qing-Yang” began to attract the interest of readers.
One literary award every year. By the tenth year, I had practically won every major Japanese literary fiction prize: the Naoki Prize, the Akutagawa Prize, the Yomiuri Literary Prize, the Junichiro Tanizaki Prize, the Mystery Writers of Japan Award, and many others. The pen name “Arashiyama Qing-Yang” became a household name not only in Japan but also achieved a level of fame comparable to Haruki Murakami. Every one of my novels was adapted into a television drama or film. Yet the real person behind “Arashiyama Qing-Yang” had never appeared in front of a camera, so no one knew that I was the mysterious figure who had become a nationwide sensation. Whenever I received an award or was interviewed by reporters, the old man from Arashiyama’s grandson appeared on my behalf. I remained a mysterious “man behind the scenes.”
At the end of that year, horrifying news arrived from Taiwan that sent a chill through me: Old K, the famous film and television screenwriter, had been sentenced to death by the Supreme Court, with the conviction finalized for serial murder and dismemberment. Although I was deeply shocked, I still honored my agreement with the old man from Arashiyama and did not return to Taiwan to visit Old K.
When I handed my tenth novel to the old man, he gave me a novelized screenplay. The author was none other than my best friend Old K, whom I had not seen for ten years. I glanced at the title, The Butterfly Serial Murder Mystery, and immediately understood. Old K must have made himself the protagonist of the story, violating the taboo of that human-skin book and thereby bringing disaster upon himself.