The Ghost Bride (9 page)

Taking a deep breath, I arranged a sheaf of notes into a fan. Muttering a brief prayer to Zheng He, the admiral who had sailed so far around the world, I hoped it would do, though my heart was full of doubt. Then I faced my own name and bowed, saying, “May this money be of use to me somehow.” It sounded weak and rather pathetic, but I dipped the notes into the brazier and they caught fire instantly. I was just about to arrange another fan of cash when Amah came into the courtyard.

“Started already?” she said, her eyes darting to the hell banknotes in my hand. Hastily, I cast them into the brazier and tried to hide the makeshift soul tablet with my name on it, but it was too late.

“What are you doing? You’re not dead yet!” With surprising speed, she snatched away the paper tablet and tore it up.

“Amah,” I said, but she was crying and scolding me.

“Unlucky! So unlucky! How could you do such a thing?”

“The medium told me to.”

“She did?” Amah glared at me. “Then she’s a liar. You’re not going to die. You’re too young to die!” As she wept, distraught, I clung to her like a child again, feeling the slightness of her frame and the frailty of her bones.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

How many times had she held me thus when I was small? After a while, she wiped her face with the backs of her hands.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because nobody ever burns offerings to a living person!”

“But this might be a special case.”

Though I didn’t wish to upset her, I couldn’t help arguing my point. All that preparation wasted if I couldn’t burn the money!

“Are you sure she didn’t want you to burn them for him?”

“No. She said it was for me.”

Amah sat down heavily. “It’s as good as saying you’re dead already. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“But, Amah, you told me to see her!”

“She has some talent, to be sure, but she’s not a god. How does she know what fate has in store for you?”

Two faint spots of color appeared on Amah’s face. I knew that look. It meant that there was to be no more discussion over this, however rationally one might argue. I thought about insisting. After all, I was the mistress of the house now. Had probably been for years, in fact, though I had never thought of things that way. As though she could read my mind, Amah cast her eyes down.

“Li Lan, I’m just an old woman now. You can do what you want. But please, don’t do this. It’s very unlucky.”

To my dismay, she began to cry again. I crouched down to look up at her. “I won’t do it.”

Tears slipped into the wrinkles on her face. “You don’t understand. I raised your mother. I carried her when she was a baby, and held her hand when she learned to walk. And then she died so suddenly, poor creature. At her funeral you clung to me, your sweet baby arms holding on to my neck. I swore to her that I would never leave you. If you die young too, I can’t bear it!”

I was amazed at this outpouring. Amah was usually so unsentimental, so unwilling to talk about the past. “Was she that young then?” I had always imagined my mother as being much older than me, looking like other people’s mothers or my aunts.

“Not much older than you are now. She was like my own child.”

Unconsciously, Amah’s hand smoothed my hair, falling back into the old rhythms of childhood as though I were really only knee-high and had come to seek solace in her lap. “And now you. You are my little girl too.” We clung to each other like two shipwrecked survivors.

Chapter 10

T
hat night I had terrible dreams, despite the medium’s medicine. My eyes were swollen from crying and I was in low spirits. Amah’s fear had infected me. Death had already stolen from her once and she believed that it could easily happen again, whether from the god of smallpox or as a ghostly affliction. Not wanting to think about it, I went to bed early. The dreams began almost immediately, as though they had been pent up for days. From my drugged sleep, dark shapes wavered, pressing shadowy hands and faces against an invisible barrier. Everything was blurred and slow. I caught glimpses of Lim Tian Ching’s face fading in and out. The mouth moved and the eyes rolled alarmingly. I didn’t want to listen but eventually he swam into focus.

“Li Lan, my dear,” he said. The distortions pulled his mouth into a strange rictus. “You’ve been so unfriendly lately. Surely this is no way to treat your betrothed?”

“Go away!” I shouted, though the words emerged with terrible effort. “I’m not your betrothed! I have no relation to you at all.”

“I came to give you a warning,” he said. “A little willfulness in a wife isn’t too bad, but outright disobedience . . . Well, Li Lan, as your fiancé I do feel it is my duty to correct you, don’t you think?”

“Did you put blood on our door?”

He giggled. “Wasn’t it impressive? Even I was surprised.”

“You did it yourself?”

“Now, now, I can’t give away all my secrets. But suffice it to say that I have others at my command. I am a person of some prestige, which you may come to appreciate soon.”

“How is it that you can command spirits?”

He laughed. “It was nothing really,” he said. “I just told them to give you a fright. I would never have thought of blood myself, but I have to say it looked good. That maid of yours couldn’t stop screaming. Really, I haven’t enjoyed myself so much since . . .  since . . .  ” He frowned and broke off.

I knew better now than to steer him onto the topic of his death. “And they did this for you? Who are they?”

“The border officials. Oh yes, they listen to me. They’ve been seconded to my command.”

“By whom?”

“One of the Nine Judges of Hell, of course.” He positively smirked at this, his shoulders hunching so that the thick pad of fat where his neck met his back shifted. It was a shame that dying had done so little for his physique.

“Does everyone get demons to command?” I asked.

“Of course not! As a special case, I received resources for my task. You don’t think they would let people just do whatever they like! There are procedures, the proper people to know.” He stroked his chin, fondling the ghost of a goatee. “But enough of that. I came to see if you had changed your mind. You didn’t exactly make it very pleasant for me to visit you lately. Consulting that old witch.”

“So the powder worked.”

Too late, I realized I had said the wrong thing. Rage flitted across his face; his eyes flattened dangerously. This was the frightening thing about Lim Tian Ching. Living in our tranquil, slightly gloomy household, I had never experienced such tantrums.

“No powder can hold me!” he said. “It was a minor inconvenience. But I’ve come for my answer tonight.”

“But why do you want to marry me?”

“Li Lan, Li Lan, you ask too many questions. Surely you don’t mean to weary your bridegroom already.” But he was still smiling, as though the game pleased him in some manner. “There will be plenty of time for our love to become intimate.”

“Love? You hardly know me.”

“Oh, but I know you very well, Li Lan.” I shrank away as he approached. “And it was agreed, you would be part of my reward.”

“For what?”

“I suppose I can tell you since we’re to be married anyway. Someone important has granted me special restitution for the crime committed against me. I need only complete a few trifling tasks for them. And in return, the perpetrator shall be mine.”

“What crime?” I asked, although my skin was prickling.

“Surely you don’t think a strong young man like me could die suddenly of a fever, do you?” he said. “I was murdered.”

I blinked nervously. “And are you trying to discover who did it?”

“But I already know. It was my dear cousin, Tian Bai.”

A
mah was the one who woke me, weeping and screaming as I thrashed about. For a long time afterward, she held me as I sobbed incoherently about Lim Tian Ching while she stroked the sweat-soaked hair back from my face. At last I fell into a fitful sleep. When I finally rose, it was almost noon and Amah was tapping on the door.

“What is it?” I asked. I was still preoccupied with Lim Tian Ching’s revelations. My hair was wild, my eyelids swollen. I looked like a madwoman.

“Your father wants to see you.” Amah seemed smaller than ever, a clockwork toy that had begun to run down. “Downstairs, in his study.”

I looked at Amah but she merely shrugged. “Who knows what he wants? But you! You’re too ill to get out of bed. I’ll tell him to wait until later.”

“I’ll go.”

For some reason I felt profoundly uneasy about this summons and I suspected Amah did too, even as she tried to detain me by fussing and scolding. When I had washed my face and plaited my hair, I went downstairs. For the first time in days, the door to my father’s study stood ajar. I knocked tentatively, even though I had never been in the habit of doing so.

“Come in,” said my father.

He was standing behind his desk holding a painted scroll. The bones protruded from his emaciated cheeks and it struck me that the ghost of Lim Tian Ching was eating our household alive. I wondered what pressures he had brought to bear in the Lim mansion, and for the first time, felt a twinge of pity for his parents.

“A fine painting, don’t you think? This has always been one of my favorites.” It was a black-and-white study of mountains, the brushstrokes fierce as though the artist could barely control his impatience to bring the scene to life. “I tried to keep it out of the light and heat,” said my father. “This is by a very famous painter. Can you guess who it is?”

Surely my father had not summoned me down to continue my neglected classical education. Or was he losing his reason after all? He twisted his lips in a grimace. “It will get a good price,” he said. “And there are more. These old things that I’ve collected, perhaps they may be of some use after all.”

“How much?” I said.

“Not enough. But I plan to declare bankruptcy. These are for you. We’ll convert them into gold and cash so you’ll have something to live on.”

“And you? What about you?” I asked in sudden fear. Scenes flashed across my mind. My father in debtor’s prison, or lying broken in the street.

“Don’t worry about me.” Seeing that I was becoming agitated, he said, “Li Lan, I actually wanted to give you some news. I thought it would be better that you heard it from me, rather than from some gossiping servant.”

My heart sank. “What is it?”

“Tian Bai is to be married. The betrothal is official, the contracts have been signed and he will marry the daughter of the Quah family.”

I
stood there dumbly, his words ringing in my ears like the wash of distant waves. “The Quah family?” I said through stiff and clumsy lips.

“You may have seen her that night at the Festival of the Cowherd and the Weaving Maiden. She stood next to you at the needle-threading competition.”

Of course I remembered her. That tall, horse-faced girl who had been so unfriendly to me. I was falling, drowning in dark water. I could barely hear my father. Numb, I watched as he grasped my cold hands.

“Li Lan!” he said. “I’m so sorry. That day when he came to talk to me, I was afraid he would raise your hopes.”

I turned and walked away. Dimly, I was aware of my father calling me, of Amah running up to catch my sleeve, but all was underwater. A roaring filled my ears and my vision blurred. Tian Bai! Wrapped up as I had been in my struggles with Lim Tian Ching, I had taken it for granted that he was, in his own world, fighting his uncle to ensure that we could still be together. And now he had failed me. Had failed for quite some time, since the marriage contracts were already signed. What a fool I had been! Taken in by a charming smile and an old brass watch. I had indulged in daydreams while the Quah girl probably sewed her trousseau. Perhaps she too had received a length of cloth as a prize from Yan Hong. I felt sick.

I lay on my bed with unseeing eyes. I was exhausted, but could not rest. Lim Tian Ching’s accusations. Tian Bai’s marriage. They churned together in a nauseating morass. If Tian Bai was a murderer, then I was well rid of him. Yet I could not bring myself to trust Lim Tian Ching, nor even my own dreams. That way led to madness. I didn’t know how long I lay there, but the sun moved from one window to the other as the day waned. Amah came in and lit the lamps. She brought soup, even as I turned my face away. She wept aloud and cursed Tian Bai, saying all the things that I wished I could say. As the light faded, the yellow spell papers over the windows shivered in an unseen wind. I knew what that meant. My unwanted suitor would come again that night.

When Amah left, I sat up and fumbled for the pouch of powder that the medium had given me. With shaking fingers I poured a generous amount into a cup and sloshed some water in. She had said I could increase the dose if it didn’t work. Well, it had certainly not worked last night. I told myself that all I wanted was oblivion, to sleep and forget. I told myself this even as I gulped it down, gasping at the bitter taste. Now, in retrospect, I asked myself why did I do that? Why didn’t I wait for Amah to come back, to prepare it for me as carefully as she would surely have done? I was angry, despairing, and careless. But I truly don’t think that I meant to die.

Part Two

Afterworld

Chapter
11

S
omeone was
crying, the harsh sobs like the wheezing of an animal in pain. I opened my eyes
to a bedchamber with windows half shuttered against the strong sunshine. Though
they must have once been of good quality, there was an indefinable shabbiness
about the furniture despite the scoured floorboards and neatly mended linens.
All these things I saw with a hawk-like sharpness I had never experienced
before. Every whorl on the wooden beams stood out in relief. Each mote of dust
hung in the air like a star.

An old woman was huddled against the side of the
bed but it was hard to concentrate on her. My mind seemed to wander, as though
it was constantly being drawn away. The bed was a three-sided box and on it was
a single cotton mattress, worn to a concave meagerness. I spent a long time
examining the stitches that held it together. All this time, the sobbing
continued until almost in irritation, I turned my attention back to the old
woman. She crouched on the floor, her face buried in the side of the mattress.
As she rocked back and forth, she exposed the thin soles of her cloth shoes.

As I studied her, I became aware of a girl lying in
the bed. She lay unnaturally still, her eyelids furled tight as flower buds. The
extreme pallor of her complexion made the gently curving brows and thick lashes
stand out in stark contrast, as though they had been painted with a heavy hand.
I wondered what she looked like when she opened her eyes. If she ever opened
them, indeed, for it was apparent even from a distance that something was wrong
with her.

The door opened and a maidservant entered. When she
saw the girl on the bed she began to shriek. Her cries drew an older man with
pockmarked skin. From his long robe I guessed he was the master of the house,
though he seemed pitiably feeble. He grasped the girl’s hands and called her
name. Distracted, I was about to turn toward the windows, but the sound of her
name arrested me and kept me where I was, watching almost disinterestedly as
they tried to revive her. All the while the people in the room kept exclaiming
“Li Lan! Li Lan!” as though that would bring her back.

At length a doctor arrived. Shooing away the
hysterical maid, he listened to the girl’s pulse, prised open her mouth, and
examined her tongue. He felt the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet,
pausing to turn up her eyelids.

Then he said, “She’s not dead.” The old woman, who
had not left her post by the bed, burst into fresh weeping. “What has she
taken?” he asked.

Painfully, she rose and brought a paper packet of
powder to the doctor, along with the dregs of an earthenware cup. He sniffed it,
put in his finger and licked it briefly. “Opium,” he pronounced, “Along with a
lot of other things, some of which I don’t know. Who gave this to her?”

The old woman began some muddled explanation about
a medium and other events that I barely paid attention to. Instead, fascinated
by the fact that the girl was still alive, I drew closer. If I had paused to
reflect, perhaps I should have found it strange that no one appeared to notice
me but it didn’t occur to me then.

The doctor was delivering his diagnostic. “Keep her
warm and feed her plain chicken broth if you can. She may revive but you should
also prepare for the worst.”

“Are you saying she might die?” asked the master of
the house.

In answer the doctor wiped his fingers fastidiously
on his sleeve, then using the second and third fingers of his right hand,
pressed hard on the girl’s upper lip, beneath the nose. Surprisingly, her
eyelids gave the merest flicker. At the same instant, I became aware of a tug at
the very fibers of my being. If I were a kite blowing on some errant wind, that
feeling would be the sudden jerk of the string catching up to me.

“You see?” said the doctor. “This is the
acupuncture point to revive fainting and nosebleeds. She’s taken an overdose
that has slowed her life force drastically, yet there’s still some
qi
circulating in her body.”

“Will she recover?”

“She’s young and her body may eventually break down
the poison, so keep her warm and massage her. Try to see if she can take a
little liquid.”

“Please, Doctor. Tell me truly, what are her
chances?” The older man looked haggard, his eyes wide and glassy. I could see
his pupils were dilated as though he himself were taking stimulants. The doctor
must have noticed too, for he paused to look at him with a faint expression of
distaste.

“Let her rest and tomorrow I’ll come back with
acupuncture needles. I don’t want to stimulate the
qi
until her condition stabilizes. But she may be in this state for
a while.” As the doctor prepared to leave, he took the old woman aside and
muttered, “He’s smoking too much opium.”

She nodded, though I could see her heart wasn’t in
it. Her gaze kept straying back to the girl on the bed, and after the doctor
left, she immediately began to massage her limbs. At first the girl lay
motionless like a beautiful doll, but after about twenty minutes I began to
perceive a hint of color in her face. It was so faint that I wondered whether
the old woman could detect it, but an expression of relief crossed her face.
Tenderly, she smoothed the girl’s hair.

“I’ll make you some soup, my little one,” she said.
“Don’t worry, Amah will come back soon.”

As soon as the door had closed behind her I went
over to the girl. I felt intensely curious about her. When I gazed into her face
I had the nagging feeling that there was something important that I couldn’t
remember. Close up, I could detect the barely perceptible pulse in her throat,
the sluggish meandering of blood through her body, and the faint lift of her rib
cage. Drawn by some unknown fascination, I placed my hand on her chest. A jolt
of lightning ran through my body, burning its way with a rush of memories,
images, and feelings. In a flash, I remembered who I was, who all those people
were. That was my body lying on the bed.

For some moments I stayed there, frozen in fear and
amazement. Was I a spirit now? Frantically, I circled the body. My body, I
reminded myself. It was said that when the soul was parted from the body it
could be enticed back. I walked round, peering at it and wondering whether I
could enter through a nostril or an ear, but I didn’t seem to have that ability.
Frustrated at last, I lay down on it, my phantom form slowly sinking until it
was completely engulfed by my unconscious self. I fit perfectly, yet there was a
separation that couldn’t be reconciled. But despite my anxiety, I no longer felt
as distracted. My spirit must have remembered the cradle of my flesh, the soft
murmurings of blood in my veins, and it quieted down like a nervous horse in a
familiar stall.

W
hen I
opened my eyes again, Amah’s familiar face hovered anxiously over me. For an
instant I thought I was a child again, sick in bed, but then I remembered. She
passed a hand over my forehead, but I felt nothing. It was a crushing
disappointment. I called Amah, but she continued to gaze down at me sadly.

“Li Lan,” she said. “Can you hear me? I brought
some broth for you.”

“I’m here!” I cried, but to her eyes there was no
change.

When she propped my body up, I sat up in it as
well. Amah brought a spoonful to my lips. “Just a little,” she said. The
fragrance was savory and enticing, but my body slumped forward and the broth
dribbled out. Tears gathered in Amah’s eyes but she kept trying. In desperation,
I took up my place inside my body and pretended to swallow whenever she spooned
the broth in. At first it seemed to make no difference, but eventually my body
swallowed weakly. Amah was beside herself with delight, and so was I. She
cleaned my face with a warm damp towel, dressed me in fresh clothes, and tucked
me in. All this I observed while standing at her shoulder, though she paid no
heed to my piteous entreaties.

When she left again, I followed her out. Contrary
to my expectations of the spirit world, movement was not difficult. The only
change was that I seemed to have less substance. Soft filmy things, like
curtains, were no barrier to my passing, but denser objects required a struggle.
I didn’t even attempt the walls, not wishing to get stuck somewhere. Other
people were impermeable to me. When Ah Chun brushed past, the movement of her
shoulder pushed me back against the wall. Only my own body seemed to accept my
passage easily.

Ghosts, it was widely believed, had the greatest
difficulty turning corners and could be easily flummoxed by odd angles and
mirrors. But they could also slip through cracks and dwindle like candle flames.
None of these rules seemed to apply to me, and I wondered whether the fact that
I was not quite dead had anything to do with it. Or worse, perhaps soon I would
lose this ability to move purposefully and I would fade away, becoming no more
than a wraith blown by the wind.

At the top of the stairs, I leaped impulsively,
floating feather-soft down to the floor below. I was so pleased with this
discovery that I was on the verge of running upstairs to repeat it when I heard
voices in the courtyard. The air was beginning to cool and the smell of burning
charcoal rose as stoves were lit for the evening meal. I could almost taste the
food that was cooking, just as I had tasted the broth Amah had spooned into my
body. While that had strengthened me, however, these aromas merely tantalized,
leaving me unsatisfied.

I made my way slowly into the courtyard where Old
Wong was talking to Ah Chun. Judging from her red nose and swollen eyes, she had
either just stopped crying or was about to start again.

“The little mistress dead,” she said. “And she so
young—I’m sure this house is cursed!”

Old Wong made a sharp sound of annoyance. “She’s
not dead. Didn’t you hear the doctor?”

“I mean to give my notice tomorrow,” said Ah Chun.
“I won’t work here anymore.”

“Go ahead, then,” said Old Wong. “Try and see if
you can find another job right away. At least you’re still fed and housed
here.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Will you leave at the
end of the month?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “They need the help.”

“I heard the master is bankrupt.” Ah Chun blew her
nose.

“Still paying us, aren’t they?”

I listened to them anxiously, wondering how our
household would fare if Ah Chun and Old Wong should leave us. At that moment,
Old Wong turned his head and looked directly at me. A spasm of emotion crossed
his face, like a lizard skittering on hot stones. I was astonished. No one else
had noticed me at all. I called his name but he turned away.

“Be off with you!” he said. “Go back to where you
belong.”

Obediently, Ah Chun picked up her pan of vegetable
peelings and made her way indoors. I lingered, thinking about the words he had
used. They almost seemed intended for me, but he didn’t acknowledge me at all,
even when I stood in front of him calling plaintively. Instead, he marched back
to the kitchen, leaving me to doubt that instant of recognition.

F
or the
next few days I stayed close to my body, often lying in it in the hopes that I
could rekindle a connection. Compared to when I had first seen it, my body now
looked as though it were merely sleeping. The waxen, lifeless cast was gone, and
it could now eat a little and swallow involuntarily. When helped to the chamber
pot, it would obediently void itself. This last I worked very hard on, for I
didn’t want Amah to be burdened as though I were an infant again. At first I was
flushed with this success, but when improvement halted at this basic level, I
began to despair.

The doctor came every day. I shuddered to think at
how we were paying him, but thankfully there was still some cash from the
jewelry I had sold. I hoped Amah would have the sense to sell more, if need be.
He administered acupuncture and pronounced himself pleasantly surprised at the
signs of progress, which he attributed entirely to his own devices.

“I’ve seldom seen such a marked improvement in a
patient,” he declared to my father.

“But what about her mind? She still doesn’t respond
to anything.”

“It’s an unusual case to be sure. Usually the
spirit returns first, prompting the physical recovery.”

“What do you think?” my father broke in. There were
stains on his blue robe, which he had not changed for days.

“You need to call her spirit back. Who knows where
it is wandering now?”

Since I was standing right beside him, I felt the
horrible irony of his remarks. Wandering, indeed!

“And if her spirit can find its way back?”

“Then it should naturally join to the body. There
is a strong attraction between the two.”

This conversation made me more certain than ever
that I must do something. Anything. The disaster of my disembodiment had
overshadowed all else, but now I feared that in my current form I might be
easier prey for Lim Tian Ching and his schemes. And what of his other
accusations? I found it hard to believe Tian Bai was a murderer, but I tore my
thoughts from him. Even if he was innocent, he was marrying another. I had
enough troubles of my own.

I had not yet dared to pass beyond the barrier of
yellow spell papers that Amah and I had pasted on the windows and entrances.
Whenever I drew close, they fluttered wildly though there was no breeze. I
feared that they might trap me, as their purpose was to block spirits. I had
noticed that my spirit form wore the same clothes my physical body did, and the
food Amah gave my body seemed to strengthen it. That seemed a good sign; in some
indefinable way, my spirit was still tied to my body. But I wasn’t sure what
would happen to this bond if I left the house.

As I gazed at my body, wishing I had appreciated it
more, I noticed a thin thread hanging in the air. At first I thought it was a
strand of spider silk, but it glistened in the sunshine and in contrast to how
solid objects had become for me in my new state, appeared strangely translucent.
I put my finger out and felt a tingling hum, like the vibrating string of an
instrument.