The Ghost Bride

by Yangsze Choo

  “What kind of spirits?”

  “Horrible things with cows’ heads and dogs’ teeth. And also a wicked-looking woman. I don’t want to stay here anymore!”

  “Ask her who the woman was!” I said to Old Wong. In my heart, I had the terrible fear that it was myself.

  “They weren’t talking about our Little Miss, were they?” said Old Wong.

  “Oh no! Somebody else, they said. With a pinched face, like a corpse. The cook heard it from a traveling peddler who claims to see spirits.”

  I remembered the mummified look that Fan had had when I first met her, as though the skin had shrunk away from her bones. “That’s her!” I said to Old Wong.

  “What are you talking about?” he muttered.

  “I’m just telling you what I heard,” said Ah Chun with a martyred air. “But of course you don’t believe me. I want to go home.”

  “Wait,” Old Wong said. “Maybe you’re right. You should tell Amah. Also the master.”

  Ah Chun stared at him as though he had sprouted a tail. “Tell the master?”

  “I’ll tell him too,” said Old Wong. “If we’re going to have a wedding, maybe we should have an exorcism first.”

  “Are you mad?” she said. “That’s the last thing anybody wants to hear before a wedding!”

  “So what? Just tell them.”

  “And lose my job?”

  “I thought you said you wanted to go back to your village.”

  Ah Chun glared at him. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” She stalked off down the corridor, her bowl of flowers forgotten on the table.

  “Well, she has a point,” said Old Wong. “Nobody is going to want to do an exorcism so close to a wedding.”

  “What does it matter?” I asked. “Call off the wedding.”

  “Is that what you want?” Old Wong fixed me with a curiously pitying look.

  “I don’t want her to marry him!”

  Old Wong sighed. “Little Miss, even if the wedding is canceled, do you still think you can marry him yourself?”

  His words seared me like a hot iron. I bent my head in shame. It was true that I kept this childish dream of Tian Bai in my heart. And I still didn’t even know whether he was a murderer. Sometimes I wondered why he occupied my thoughts so; I couldn’t even say if this was love. For some reason, the image of Er Lang sprang to mind. Lately, I often found myself keeping up an imaginary commentary with him. Such thoughts comforted me in my loneliness, though perhaps this was only further proof that my frail spirit was unraveling. In this case, the Er Lang in my mind merely raised an unseen eyebrow and turned away. He was of no help at all. But Old Wong was speaking again.

  “I know it sounds harsh,” he said, “but how will you claim your body back? I never heard of a case like yours where the spirit was separated unwillingly from the flesh. Usually it’s because the spirit doesn’t wish to return.”

  “Do you think there’s a curse on me?”

  “I told you, I don’t know much about this kind of thing. I’ve tried to avoid it my whole life.”

  “I’m sorry.” I caused nothing but trouble to the people around me. Even Er Lang had perished for my sake. With every moment that passed, I despised myself more.

  “Don’t look so unhappy,” said Old Wong gruffly. “I just don’t want you to be unrealistic.” I looked down, blinking back tears. “I’ll tell your amah myself.”

  “Tell her to contact the medium! The one at the Sam Poh Kong temple.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that? If a medium comes, we may not have much of a say in what she decides to do.”

  “Can’t you tell her?”

  “But a medium plays by different rules. We ordinary people don’t know what kind of spiritual balance she may choose to maintain. Ah well, it may all be for the best, in the end.”

  “What do you mean?” I said slowly.

  “Little Miss, the medium may decide to exorcise you as well.”

  Chapter 33

  Old Wong’s words haunted me as I drifted around, numbly noting the various household activities that continued as though I had never left. In a sense, I hadn’t. My body was still there, inhabited by Fan. She spent an inordinate amount of time choosing clothes, applying powder and rouge, and making demands of the servants. There was no doubt that she was naturally inclined to be a rich man’s wife. I tried talking to her, begging, bargaining, and pleading, but she ignored me. It was easy enough as she couldn’t hear my voice.

  Nothing further happened during the daytime other than the fact that I suffered another painful and debilitating attack, which left me so weak that I could only huddle in a corner. Old Wong was right; my spirit body was fading fast. I didn’t know whether he had found the time to speak to Amah and I brooded over his words. Deep in my heart, had I truly not wished to return to my physical self and was thus sundered? The thought filled me with unease, as did the disappearance of the ox-headed demons, though Lim Tian Ching might have called them off when he had held me captive in the Plains of the Dead.

  At sunset, I slipped out of the house again. I couldn’t bear to remain near Fan. I realized now how little I’d appreciated my body while I had it, seldom thinking about it other than to braid my hair or change my clothes hastily. Fan, on the other hand, spent hours rouging her lips and staring at her reflection, pouting and trying out various seductive poses. Despite my disdain, I couldn’t help noticing how attractive she looked. Maybe I too should have spent more time applying rice powder in thin sheets to my complexion. But then I hadn’t yet known Tian Bai. Thinking of him, of Fan pressing those lips to his, made my blood boil. I was so angry that I almost wished that he were, indeed, a murderer. Serve her right if he strangled her! But such thoughts filled me with guilt. Amah was always wary of voicing misfortunes, fearing that to do so would only make them come true. I told myself that I didn’t believe such superstitions, though in any case, almost everything that could have gone wrong with my situation had already happened. I pressed my hands into my eye sockets, noting dispiritedly that the faint glow my spirit form emitted in the dusk had brightened. Surely I could trust Tian Bai. His surprise had been so reasonable, so plausible, that I should stop doubting him. Lim Tian Ching could simply have died of a fever. And even if he hadn’t, Yan Hong had just as much motive and opportunity. In fact, if she were guilty, I suspected Tian Bai would protect her as they seemed so close.

  Even as I considered this, I was startled by the arrival of a rickshaw. I couldn’t imagine who could be calling at this time when I saw that it was none other than Tian Bai himself. Amah opened the door and, pursing her lips, pointed to the front room. I almost followed him in but, realizing that Fan could see me, thought better of it. My hands trembled as I pressed myself against the window, concealing myself in the substance of the wall. Of all people, he must realize she was an impostor. If he knew me at all, he must. I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t suspect a thing. Very soon Fan came tripping in. She gave a coy smile and to my horror, ran straight into Tian Bai’s arms with an air of familiarity. At the sight of Amah still standing in the corner of the room, she frowned and told her to go away.

  “Li Lan,” said Tian Bai with some embarrassment. “You mustn’t be so impatient.”

  “That nosy old woman!”

  “She’s your amah, didn’t you tell me she raised you?”

  Fan turned her face aside and pouted, so that her lips resembled a flower bud. Only I knew how lon
g she had taken to perfect this expression. “Did you bring me a present?”

  Tian Bai produced a pink paper packet from his pocket with an indulgent smile. She tore it open, squealing, “A gold necklace!”

  I was so overcome with jealousy that my vision clouded. Didn’t Tian Bai notice that she wasn’t me? How could he be such a fool! Even as I watched, she turned and exposed the nape of her neck.

  “Put it on!” she said.

  Tian Bai’s hands slipped the necklace around her throat, lingering on the creamy skin. I couldn’t read his expression, for his face was turned away, but his fingers traced the curve of her neck. She wore her hair piled up elaborately, unlike the schoolgirl plaits I was accustomed to. Now she lifted it with her fingers, loosening the tendrils so that they spilled over. Tian Bai buried his face in her hair, just as he had done to me in his dream. I covered my eyes in anguish. There was a fierce pain in my chest. I wanted to cry out, to pull him out of her arms. To look was a torment to me, worse than the tortures of hell. But even as I rubbed my eyes, I heard him speaking softly.

  “I had a dream about you yesterday.”

  As Fan twined her arms around him, I froze. She of all people would understand what it meant to be visited by a spirit in dreams. “What happened?” she cooed.

  “You said some strange things.”

  “Oh?” Her tone was sharper. “What sort of things?”

  Tian Bai twined a strand of her hair around his finger. “Just some odd things. About my cousin.”

  Fan narrowed her eyes. “Did I act differently? Did I tell you not to trust me?”

  “What a strange thing to say,” said Tian Bai. “Why would you think that might happen?” His tone sounded strained to me, although it was hard to tell without seeing his face.

  Fan’s eyes darted accusingly around the room, searching for my spirit form. I was glad that I had concealed myself well. “I don’t know,” she said. “You seem disturbed. Tell me.” She stroked his arm. “I want to hear all about it.”

  “And why is that?” Perhaps it was my imagination, but Tian Bai sounded cold.

  “Because dreams can trick you. They can be the work of evil spirits that lie to you.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “You mustn’t underestimate such creatures. Now, won’t you tell me what your dream was about?”

  “In my dream you asked me a strange question.”

  Fan was alert now, her body tense rather than seductive. “Oh?”

  “You asked me,” said Tian Bai slowly, “whether I was a murderer.”

  Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. Fan gaped at him but he held her gaze intently. I felt like bursting into hysterical laughter.

  Fan recovered first. “Well!” she said. “I’m glad it was only a dream.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder like a cat. “It’s probably an evil spirit. I’ll give you a charm to keep it away.”

  Tian Bai’s expression was inscrutable. “You know I don’t believe in charms.”

  “Don’t be silly! We’ll go to the temple together and get one. And maybe we can cast a fortune for a lucky wedding day.”

  I held my breath. She didn’t know that he was Catholic, but even as I considered this, she smiled winsomely. How was it that I’d never realized what a weapon a smile could be? But the way he was looking at her, almost appraisingly, made me uncomfortable. After all, for all he knew, she was me. He tilted her face up with one hand and examined it.

  “Li Lan, if you marry me, I want you to know that I expect my wife to stand by me.”

  “Of course I trust you!” She laughed uncomfortably.

  He said nothing, but after a while he dropped his hand. She continued to fawn over him, but the fleeting look I’d caught in his eyes made me uneasy. I had always associated Tian Bai with good humor. Indeed, that open, pleasant countenance was one of his chief charms. But in repose, his face was like a closed book.

  I couldn’t stay long after that. They sat together in the front room like any courting couple, talking about inconsequential things. Perhaps they couldn’t say much because Amah silently reappeared, standing just inside the door. Fan made sure to lean against him, stroking his arm at every opportunity, and by this and many admiring questions, teased from him an indulgent smile. Expertly, she showed off the curves of the body I had underappreciated. I would have sat, stiff as a schoolgirl at his proximity, but she had no such inhibitions. At one point, when Amah turned away, Fan brought her upturned face close to his, her parted lips an invitation he couldn’t resist. I saw Tian Bai steal a kiss from her and how she smiled at him then, passing her tongue swiftly over her lips. She was far more experienced than me. I was so distressed that I could no longer tell whether I was imagining innuendos and undercurrents. In the end, I forced myself to turn away. Once out in the street, I called Chendana, feeling a pang of remorse for having left her outside so long. My little horse touched my hand with her soft nose, and for a while I clung to her.

  I had meant to wait and follow Tian Bai until he fell asleep. But as I sat miserably on the doorstep, I wondered whether it was right to keep following him, to invade and alter his dreams. If I did, I would be no better than Lim Tian Ching. If only I had told Tian Bai about my condition when I had the chance. Explaining things now was awkward, especially since I had accused him of murder the last time.

  Instead, I decided to seek out the medium at the Sam Poh Kong temple. I couldn’t bear to wait outside while Fan pressed her thigh against his. Even though Old Wong’s words about exorcism troubled me, anything was better than this half-existence. Hugging my knees, I thought of how Er Lang had silently held my hand in the Plains of the Dead and how his grip had alleviated the terror I had felt at the time. Dying now seemed unutterably lonely. Would I ever see him again or my mother, or would I lose my wits along with my substance, an unburied wraith like the hungry ghosts? I wondered whether my recent fits of distraction were symptoms of this change, and if in the end, I would be reduced to nothing more than a swirl of residual emotions. Still, I quailed at the thought of leaving this world. I had too much left unfinished—my soul was full of unfulfilled desires and yearnings.

  The night was growing darker and spirit lights began to appear. One by one they lit their pale ghostly fire. Some were white, others red or orange, and many were the same eerie green that had characterized Fan. Their silent advent, like a spectral display of fireworks, raised the hair on my neck even though I had but recently returned from the Plains of the Dead. I could see that these spirits were different from those I had encountered there. True, there were human ghosts wandering among them, but others were strange creatures I had never seen before. There were tree and plant forms, tiny flitting creatures, and disembodied heads trailing long strands of hair. There were some with horns and protruding eyes, and others that were simply mist or vapors. They paid me no heed, but I was afraid that soon, very soon, they would notice me.

  We left the town without incident and began to pick our way through the cemeteries toward Bukit China and the Sam Poh Kong temple. In the darkness, the graves rose around us like small empty houses. Terrified of meeting hungry ghosts or something worse, I regretted my haste in leaving home. If something should come upon me, weakened as I was, I would be completely defenseless. Still, I saw no trace of spirit lights among the silent mounds. It was too far from town and all who were buried with such ceremony had long since gone on to the Plains of the Dead. Yet this ve
ry solitude chilled me to the bone. Alone in the dark, I wandered for an eternity among the graves. Bitterly, I thought of my grievances and how Fan and I had changed places. There were so many peculiar parallels between the world of the living and the dead. How many ghosts had felt the same way before? I shuddered to think that I had joined their ranks.

  The moon rose. Its wavering, silver light shone on the silent tombs, picking out the names of the long dead. Better to be exorcised, I thought. Fan and I must both sever our ties to this life. But I was afraid, despite my resolve. Chendana walked steadily onward, following the narrow road that unfurled like a ribbon of moonlight. Pain engulfed me then, that same agony that had pierced me before. The attacks were becoming more frequent, their duration longer. Never before, however, had one been so merciless. I could barely think. A paralyzing weakness seized me so that I slid off Chendana’s back and collapsed in the long grass by the path. As I lay there, something sharp dug into my side. After a long time, I summoned the strength to pull it out. Er Lang’s scale. It glimmered in the moonlight, though whether it was merely a reflection, I could not tell. I put it to my lips and with a faint breath, blew hopelessly.

  Chapter 34

  A breeze was blowing. A rushing wind that rattled the leaves and made the elephant grass stream like ghostly banners. Raindrops fell in a spatter. I wondered dully if a monsoon was coming, and whether I was now so ephemeral that I would be blown into the South China Sea.

  “If you don’t get up, you’ll be blown away.”

  I opened my eyes to a pair of elegant feet. “Er Lang?”

  He bent down, the enormous bamboo hat almost blotting out the night sky. I was so happy to see him that I couldn’t speak.

  “Are you glad to see me, or terrified?” The beautiful voice sounded genuinely curious.