The Ghost Bride

by Yangsze Choo

  Auntie Three seemed agitated. She stood up and opened the door a fraction in order to peek out. “You should leave this place,” she said. “It’s only a matter of time before they discover your escape. Besides, I heard that the ox-headed demons were returning tonight.”

  “Tonight! They’re planning on interrogating me.” An uncontrollable shudder ran up my spine until even my hair lifted at the roots.

  “How will you get out?”

  “I have a horse,” I said. “It’s still in my quarters.”

  “Why don’t you come back with me now? I’ll hide you in my room.”

  It was a tempting offer and I paused—to hide in her room, to burrow down behind a mattress and cover myself with blankets until the danger had passed—these were all things I longed for. Besides, Auntie Three was the first person in a long time who had offered to take care of me. Well, if one discounted Er Lang. Although his help appeared to be more along the lines of steering me into various situations, like an expert kite flyer in high winds. Still, I remembered Er Lang’s injunction to meet him at the pavilion; and despite the lure of a safe haven, I couldn’t help but feel a frisson of excitement at all that I had accomplished already.

  I hesitated, not wanting to tell her that I wished to spy into Lim Tian Ching’s room. How many times had he invaded my own room, my own dreams in the world of the living? Besides, something was nagging at me.

  “You go first,” I said. “I’ll meet you in your room after I check something.”

  “But can you find your way back?” The wrinkles in her aged face creased like spiderwebs; her forearms were dappled with age spots and the skin hung soft and loose from them. She was so old—far more ancient than Amah, I thought. Yet there was a decisiveness about her that was different from Amah.

  “Tell me how to get back,” I said.

  She tore off a piece of wrapping paper, and pulling a hairpin from her bun, used it to score the paper with a map. “The outer garden is less frequented by guests, but is a much longer route. In the house, this passage is a service corridor.”

  “I’ll be very careful,” I said. “Which one is Lim Tian Ching’s room?”

  She looked horrified. “The young master is not at home.”

  “Exactly! Please, if you want to help me at all, I need to find out something. Otherwise my spirit will shrivel up so I can never rejoin my body.” Faced with this argument, she could only acquiesce reluctantly.

  “I’ll come to your quarters as soon as I can,” I said. “Can you look in on my horse for me? Her name is Chendana.”

  “I’ll wait for you by the kitchen gate at the hour of the dog this evening,” said Auntie Three. “I don’t think the demons will arrive any earlier than that, and you must be gone before they set foot in this house.” She opened the door of the storeroom and cast a furtive eye outside. “I must go, or this area will be full of puppet servants searching for me soon. Li Lan—” she was about to say something, then stopped. “Come back quickly!”

  Chapter 27

  I waited until the patter of Auntie Three’s footsteps receded. There was no sense in waiting around too long. Master Awyoung and my mother might finish their rendezvous at any moment. Armed with the map that Auntie Three had scratched out for me, however, I felt far more confident in my errand. The paintings on the walls began to decrease and their subject matter became more mundane. I wondered whether my mother had really been examining them as she claimed, or if she had deliberately gone to search his room. Thinking about her caused an ache in my chest. Why had I ever listened to Amah, or my addled father? The woman I had spied upon was no better than any common prostitute.

  There was only one place on the map that looked like it might present difficulties: a large open atrium between Master Awyoung’s wing and that of Lim Tian Ching. Auntie Three had said that when the family was in residence they might often be found there. When I reached it, I saw that it was furnished with a selection of rosewood chairs. At the edge of a low table rested a single teacup, from which a thin curl of steam emerged. I stopped short with an unwelcome realization. If the tea was still hot, then someone must be there to drink it. I had no sooner thought this when I heard the sharp nasal tones of the Old Master. “Take this away and bring me Pu’er tea instead!”

  Startled, I thought he must have taken me for a servant. To my horror, however, a figure detached itself from the wall barely an arm’s length away from me. It was a puppet servant, but thankfully it ignored me. And what I had taken to be a cushion was actually the back of the Old Master’s head as he reclined on a stiff daybed. Standing where I was, he had merely to turn his head to see me. The puppet servant was busy clearing the tea tray when I bolted behind a pierced lacquer screen. This was a much better hiding place, though there was a large gap between the screen and the floor, which meant that anyone could see my feet.

  The servant shuffled off and I turned my attention back to the Old Master. To my dismay, he remained sitting upright, his gaze fixed upon a sheet of handwritten paper. Long minutes passed while I fidgeted uneasily. The servant was bound to return soon and I wasn’t sure that it would ignore me a second time. I stared intently at the paper he was holding, but he held it such that I couldn’t see the writing. It wasn’t a long missive, and the way that he studied it gave the impression that he was rereading parts of it. I speculated whether it had anything to do with the papers in Master Awyoung’s study that my mother had copied, and if it was possible that the Old Master truly had no idea of my mother’s extracurricular activities.

  As I gazed upon his sour, sallow features, I tried to discern whether there was any resemblance between him and Tian Bai or, for that matter, Lim Tian Ching. There was some similarity in the shape of the forehead and the slightly flattened ridge of the nose. But Tian Bai’s eyes tilted upward at the corners, which was his chief charm, whereas this man’s turned down, matching the ill-tempered grooves between his nose and lips. Tian Bai was better than all of them, I told myself.

  The Old Master’s head jerked up. I heard a footfall and wondered whether the puppet servant had returned. The angle of the pierced holes in the screen was such, however, that I could see in only one direction. A thin smile appeared on his face. “You’re back early.”

  “What else was there to do, Great-Uncle?” Those petulant tones were horribly familiar to me. It was none other than Lim Tian Ching.

  I broke into a cold sweat. If he were to glance this way he would surely see my feet. There was a window behind, with a narrow ledge only a hand span wide and I crouched on this, teetering on my narrow perch. Only by bracing my arms against the sides of the window could I keep my balance, but it was better than leaving my feet exposed.

  “Did you do everything I asked you to do?” asked the Old Master, quickly folding the letter into his hand.

  “Yes, yes, I delivered all the packages. They said to expect a large shipment next week.” There was a heavy flop, as though Lim Tian Ching had flung himself onto a chair. “I don’t know why I have to be the one to do this. Can’t you send a servant?”

  “I told you before, these are delicate business deals. And it’s a good way to introduce you, my descendant and heir, to various important personages.”

  “Well, some of them hardly qualify as people.”

  His great-uncle made a sharp sound. “Don’t ever say such a thing again! You can’t afford to offend them. After all, they may help you in your quest.”

  “You would think my own parents would aid me. But they won’t.”

  “What have you been up to now? Wheedling your mother in her dreams?”

  “Oh, dreams! At first I thought it was so much fun to manipulate them, but it’s boring now. My mother is so terrified, she just weeps whenever I appear. What kind of mother is that? She should be glad to see me, even if it’s only in her dreams.”

  “And your father? Is he well?”

  �
��Well enough,” Lim Tian Ching replied sulkily. “It’s harder to get through to him. The thread isn’t strong. And I can’t get through to my cousin at all. If I could only give him a few night terrors that would be well worth it.”

  “You just have to keep trying. Very soon this matter will be resolved.”

  “Why do I have to wait anyway? They’re supposed to help me collect evidence for my court case. Instead, I seem to be running errands for all these other people.”

  “Patience is a virtue you seem sadly lacking in, Grand-nephew. It’s a matter of bringing your case to the right authorities. And I don’t mind telling you that we have a powerful advocate on our side.” He dropped his voice to a murmur; as he did so, I noticed that he unobtrusively put the folded letter in his hand, away from Lim Tian Ching, on the other side of the daybed. It was now closer to me, and I held my breath as I saw the stiff sheet of paper pop open slightly. Blessing the preternatural sharpness of my vision, I squinted, deciphering some of the characters.

  —your good work . . . last shipment of weapons received on . . . His Honor the Sixth Judge of Hell is most pleas—

  Heart pounding, I stared at the inked characters until the words were burned into my memory. I was sure Er Lang would be extremely interested in such a letter, which appeared to link the conspirators of a rebellion with corruption in the Courts of Hell.

  It was madness, I knew. But I had to get that letter. Frantically, I searched for a distraction and spied a stiff arrangement of fruit on the sideboard. The only problem was that a puppet servant stood in between. Inching forward on my hands and knees, I crept past it, praying that it would ignore me as it had before.

  The men were still talking. “—still missing!” That was Lim Tian Ching in a louder tone. “Where can she possibly have gone?”

  “That reminds me. We caught a girl last night.”

  “A girl? Here?”

  “Yes. Master Awyoung said she seemed suspicious.”

  “And you think that was Li Lan?”

  “The thought never crossed my mind,” said his great-uncle blandly. “But now that you mention it, I wonder whether it is the same girl.”

  I reached up and grasped an orange. It was hard and perfectly spherical. I stuffed it in my pocket. Then another.

  “But how would she get here? She had nothing, no funeral goods, no carriage.”

  “That’s why I didn’t consider the possibility earlier. But you may see her if you like. In fact, you can have her after the demons are done interrogating her.”

  “Can it really be her? Is this girl pretty?”

  “Oh, tolerable. Enough to make your aunt here jealous.” The two men laughed, while I felt another sting at the thought of my mother, who had now rejected me in more ways than I could count. Silently, I wriggled until I was just behind the Old Master’s daybed.

  “Well, I’ll take a look at her, but what if it isn’t Li Lan?” asked Lim Tian Ching.

  “A man can have concubines. In fact, it is his duty and his reward.”

  I felt my ears burn with rage at these pronouncements. My neck was beginning to ache from crouching awkwardly, but I dared not move. The letter was so close now that I could almost touch it. But the Old Master’s hand, dangling over the side of the daybed, was only inches away.

  “When are the ox-headed demons coming?” asked Lim Tian Ching.

  “Tonight. Be prepared to inform them of your progress.”

  With agonizing slowness, I eased the letter out, but even as I thrust it into my clothes, I saw the Old Master’s hand descend as if to pick it up. Taking a deep breath, I hurled the orange at a spindly table on the other side of the atrium. The throw was hard and low, and though it missed the table, it hit the side of the wall with a dull thunk. They both started, heads swiveling. I rolled my second orange after the first. As they stood up to peer at the noise, I slithered frantically backward. But in my haste, I tripped over the puppet servant. A hard hand shot out and seized my arm. As we struggled in desperate silence, the heavy wooden screen teetered, then fell with a tremendous bang, smashing into a curio cabinet and sending shards of porcelain flying everywhere.

  I had a second’s glimpse of Lim Tian Ching and his great-uncle staring at me in shock. Their mouths hung open and the family likeness was absurdly pronounced. Then I was racing wildly down the corridor. Behind me I heard shouts of confusion. My heart was hammering, my legs sliding on the tiled floors. The sound of running footsteps came to my ears, a monotonous gait as though a number of people were moving in unison. It could only be puppet servants, fanning their way through the mansion. Panicked, I searched for an exit but there was only a single window, its bars too narrow to fit a cat through. At its foot was a vase as high as a man, filled with a stiff arrangement of white chrysanthemums and spider lilies. There was no water in this bouquet for the dead; the flowers needed none and would last forever. Frantically, I pushed them aside and rattled the window bars. The running steps drew ever nearer, chilling in their utter absence of other noises. Then the puppet servants fell upon me.

  Later I would be grateful for my terror, for when they seized me, clamping their hard, cold hands over my mouth, I was so petrified that I fainted. In this manner I was spared the consciousness of being carried by them, not to the storeroom where I had first been imprisoned, but somewhere else entirely.

  Chapter 28

  Someone was stroking my hair. At first I thought that I was a child again and Amah was soothing me after a bad dream. The relief of waking up was so great that tears streamed from my closed eyes. Then I opened them. Lim Tian Ching was bending over me. It was his hand that was tangled in my hair, and his face that lingered so solicitously next to mine. I began to scream.

  “Stop it!” he said, but I couldn’t. Lim Tian Ching tried to stifle my cries with a meaty hand, but it only made me more hysterical. He shook me roughly and, reflexively, I slapped him. The sting of my hand upon his face was the best feeling I had experienced since I had lost my body. We stared at each other in shock.

  “What did you do that for?” he said.

  “How dare you touch me!” I said. “You kidnapper! You fiend!”

  His thick lips loosened in surprise as he quailed momentarily before this barrage. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who came here. How did you get here?”

  I looked around. From the size of the room and the men’s clothes strewn upon the ground, I had the sinking feeling that it was Lim Tian Ching’s bedroom. Crossing my arms, I was relieved at the stiff rustle of the letter hidden in my clothes. So they hadn’t searched me yet. In the chaos of broken furniture, the Old Master must have momentarily forgotten his letter, but inevitably he would realize his loss.

  Stalling, I said, “I was lost.” Lim Tian Ching’s small eyes stared hard at me, flicking across my disheveled clothes and wild hair. “I followed some ghosts and they took me down a tunnel across a plain until we reached this place.”

  “You crossed the Plains of the Dead? How did you do that?”

  The last thing I wanted was for him to know about my little horse. “I walked. It took a long, long time. Months,” I said, remembering Er Lang’s discussion of how time moved erratically here.

  “So that’s where you were!” he said, half to himself. “No wonder you look terrible.” For some reason, his words enraged me and I flew at him with my nails. He blanched for a moment, then caught me by the wrists.

  “My, my,” he said. “I see your temper hasn’t improved.” He brought his face close to mine, even as I struggled futilely. Despite his soft and pudgy appearance, he was far stronger than me. He was a man, even in this world of deathly make-believe, and I was only a weak girl. The same thought must have occurred to him, for his expression chan
ged.

  “Li Lan, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are safe.” The moony shine had returned to his eyes. I struggled in silence. “My people were looking for you everywhere.”

  “Who told you to send demons to my house? I was frightened out of my wits!”

  “You were frightened?” he cooed. “Of course, I should have thought of that. My poor dear. You had no need to be afraid of them. They are merely my minions.” At this I almost snorted, but his solicitous gaze was making me feel increasingly uncomfortable, especially since he still had me by the wrists.

  “You know, I was wrong to say you look terrible.” His large face loomed ever closer, so that I could see every shiny pore. It was a shame that death hadn’t improved him. I thought illogically that it must have been difficult for him to grow up in the shadow of Tian Bai’s pleasant features.

  “In fact, you look quite . . . fetching. I like your hair loose like this.” He touched a strand of my hair, and any pity I felt for him vanished. I jerked abruptly away from him.

  “Don’t touch me! You have no right to touch me.”

  “How can you say that? You were promised to me.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter what you want.” He turned away with a wounded air. “The border officials have already approved our marriage.”

  “Do you mean those ox-headed demons?”

  “Be careful of what you say! Some of them are of very high rank.” The smirk on his face was a pale imitation of his great-uncle’s. Lim Tian Ching walked toward the far end of the room and picked up a cup. “Some tea?” he asked. I sat down heavily, relieved by the physical distance between us.

  “I can’t imagine why you had to run off like that,” he said. “You must know I only had your best interests at heart.” The hurt look reappeared on his face. “Why are you always so stubborn? Isn’t it better for a young maiden to marry someone who cherishes her? I hadn’t intended for you to reach the Plains of the Dead so soon. Indeed, I hoped you would enjoy many more years of a long life.”