The Harvest of Qi

Elena and Marek met in the artists’ pavilion on the path to the High Shore. Elena breathed in the scent of essential oils and heard the trickling sounds of meditation music. Passionate followers of Qi erotics devoted themselves to a collaborative practice of caring for body and soul. They understood the awakening and harmonization of desire as gifts of life force. They were guided by an allegedly internationally renowned expert named Park Seo-Yoon. The yogini insisted on the formal address Park Sabu-nim — Master Park. She was in her forties and looked as though she were in her early thirties.

This was not a hysterical cult of dropouts, but rather an exclusive and, moreover, discreet community: men and women of accomplishment in the downward phase of their performance curve, fifty-plus, financially comfortable, rational in their everyday lives, who submitted themselves to the spiritual leader, worshipped her like a goddess, and reverently welcomed her into their homes — for an energetic extra treat. Master Park’s specialty was the healing of erectile dysfunction. With her help, her subjects experienced exuberant, youthful orgasms. The revitalization was a legal drug.

The adorants wanted to buy back their youth and failed to notice that they were being drained.

Park Sabu-nim — from this point on I will call her Seo-Yoon — possessed the aura of an enlightened being who had not lost her earthly competence. It was the charisma of a shuttle pilot whom one would entrust oneself to without hesitation during a journey into space.

The criminal investigator Elena considered herself a criminal. She cheated, as she believed, of her own free will, while in truth she had been possessed by a demon. Step by step, she was repeating the fate of her twin sister, who had died many years earlier under mysterious circumstances — directed by a psychopath wearing the mask of a multiple award-winning bestselling author. He did what he did not in order to write about it. The extraordinarily convincing descriptions of detail were merely a surplus.

Ahrenshoop offered Marek the perfect setting. The semi-fashionable Baltic seaside resort had a legendary past and a vague present as an artists’ colony. The pavilion overlooking the sea, the writing workshop atmosphere in a former FDGB holiday home — all of it perfectly concealed Marek’s monstrous nature. Seo-Yoon and he were accomplices. Perfectly camouflaged as enlightened beings, they willingly fished in murky waters. The Master took care of the newcomers under the guise of compassion. She ran through the stages of a reliable routine of overpowering persuasion. It was always only about unlocking someone and leading them into the realm of their own desire. Seo-Yoon intuitively identified each person’s sexual breaking point. She knew what had to be done next. This, then, was no charlatanry.

Marek observed Elena with the gaze of a predator watching its prey voluntarily surrender its means of defense. It was a magical process, and certainly the most exciting moment of the game. Elena’s professional police instinct for control failed completely.

Seo-Yoon and Marek were predators of the same species. Two vampires feeding on the life force of others. Elena was the ultimate trophy. Habitually and yet strangely dazed, she memorized the healer’s features. An oval face, an artfully loose black silk bun held in place by a jade hairpin. Seo-Yoon’s clothing reflected a modern and luxurious interpretation of Asian aesthetics: a flowing ensemble of silk and linen in sage green.

…

They began with contemplative warm-up exercises. They breathed in synchrony and stretched one another with an erotic focus. Everything served a desire that was initially restrained, a desire that placed their bodies into a state of heightened sensitivity. Their eyes met in moments of silence. In their wordless dialogue, they perceived each other as mirrors of the soul. During the asanas, their movements merged. They experienced — as the consequence of suggestion — the strongest sense of connection they had ever felt with another human being. Every breath, every careful extension and bending of the body directed their attention more deeply toward what their shared (supposed) Qi harvest offered them.

Eventually, their encounter led them into a state they perceived as the culmination of their shared Qi production. The erotic sleep was never merely a physical union, but always a mythical intimacy and a ritual fusion of body, mind, and soul.

Marek made sure that she was not drawn into the general exchange of partners. Again and again, he discreetly pulled the somnambulistic, if not hypnotized, Elena away from the determined advances of openly uninhibited silver agers. She accepted the semi-public setting without resistance.

“You may all come as you please,” Seo-Yoon called out again and again. “You are in the heaven of your desire — please, let yourselves go.”