The Ghost Bride (25 page)

“If you didn’t insist on wearing that ridiculous
hat, you might have better luck materializing here.”

“It’s purely for self-protection. I would be far
too recognizable without it.”

“Who would recognize you?”

He shrugged. “I can’t help that I was born with
such remarkable looks. But enough about me. What has happened here?”

H
astily, I recounted all that had happened, including the conversations
between my mother and Master Awyoung. Lastly, I produced the crumpled letter I
had stolen from the Old Master with a feeling of triumph.

“It has meeting dates and names the Sixth Judge of
Hell,” I said. “Is that evidence enough for your case?”

Though I couldn’t see his face, Er Lang seemed
extremely pleased.

“Very good,” he said at length. “I must
congratulate myself.”

“Yourself?” I spluttered.

“Why, yes. For recruiting you as a spy. From the
moment I saw you, tracking me so diligently through a mangrove swamp, I thought
that this was a girl who could certainly be counted on to dig around the
underworld.”

“Why . . . you!” I said
indignantly, until I realized that he wasn’t serious. “You owe me a favor, then.
I need to return to my body.”

“As for that, I promised you my help. But shouldn’t
you be concerned about getting out of this place first?”

“Can’t you help me?”

He spread his hands regretfully. “Much of my
strength is gone, for I expended too much
qi
trying
to get here. To reach the realm of the dead, I had to empty myself of it.”

Despite my disappointment, I could scarcely resist
the urge to cling to him. I’d come to rely too much on him, I thought. “Then
find Auntie Three!” I burst out. “The little old woman from the kitchens. She
said she would help me. Also, can you catch up with Fan?” Hurriedly, I gave him
a brief description of her. “By this time she should be somewhere on the plains;
but if you can travel fast, tell her to wait for me at the entrance to the
tunnel, for without her I don’t think I can find the right door. Or can you show
me the way out?”

“I told you, the way I came is not possible for
you. This tunnel you speak of—I doubt that I could help you see in it. Remember,
you and I are the only living creatures in this world.” His words, though softly
spoken, brought a chill to my heart. And I was all but half dead already.

“I must get out!”

Even as I said these words, doubt filled my heart.
Now that I had handed him the letter, what was to stop Er Lang from simply
abandoning me here? His very features, under the ubiquitous bamboo hat, remained
a cipher to me. My fears must have shown in my face, for he laid one hand
lightly on mine. Without thinking, I clutched it. Er Lang didn’t say a word, but
his grip tightened. I could trace the warm width of his palm, the length of his
fingers. Yet it was indisputably a man’s hand: beautifully boned, larger, and
far stronger than mine. The tightness in my chest eased. A peculiar comfort
seeped into my skin as I considered his words,
The only
living creatures in this world.
I had been too long in this negative
realm
,
surrounded by the dead and their
facsimiles of life. But I wasn’t dead yet.

Er Lang turned. “Prepare yourself, then. If I can,
I will find this Auntie Three. The ox-headed demons are coming.”

“How do you know?” I ran after him, suddenly
fearful of being left again.

“It’s better if you don’t know. Now, the door will
open shortly. If I were you, I would take off some of that unsuitable
jewelry.”

With that, he was gone. Hastily, I plucked the pins
from my hair, braiding it again into my usual schoolgirl plaits. The formal
robes I wore were completely unsuitable for running, let alone riding, and I
cast around frantically for my servant’s clothes. They were gone, however, and
my own pajamas had not reappeared as they used to. A new fear seized me. Had
Amah stopped taking care of my body? Whatever it was, there was no time to
waste. I stripped off the outer robes, thankful at least that I had a pair of
loose trousers under the trailing garments. The shoes were impossible: thick
heeled and clumsy with ornate toes. I would have to go barefoot.

Sooner than I had expected, I heard a shout
outside. There were thumps and movement, as though people were milling around
beyond the door. Then silence. Suddenly the door opened with a quiet click, as
though someone had unlatched it. I bolted into the corridor. It was empty except
for Er Lang.

“Go that way,” he said. “I’ll delay them.”

“What did you do?”

“Set some fires,” he said laconically. “Paper
houses burn well, if you know the right way to go about it. I’ll try to find
your friend Fan on the plains. Now, run!”

Chapter 29

I
think I shall always remember that mad journey. The twisting corridors, the endless suites of empty rooms. It was well that I had memorized Auntie Three’s map, otherwise I would surely have been lost. Indeed, sometimes I still see that house in my dreams and fear that I shall never leave it. At one point I ran through the very banquet hall that Lim Tian Ching had decked out for our engagement, so long ago it seemed. The same crimson banners and lanterns still hung there; the long tables still piled with festive platters of fruits and flowers that did not decay. When I passed the spot where he had toasted our impending nuptials, my heart shied like a nervous horse, but there was no one there. In that, Er Lang had been as good as his word. I didn’t know how he had accomplished it, but there was not a soul in that part of the mansion.

When I reached the banquet hall, I threw open the sliding doors and ran out into the night. I knew from Auntie Three’s map that if I could get out into the grounds, there was a good chance I could follow the outer wall and reach the kitchen quarters. Outside, the ground was rough and uneven. I slipped several times and wished heartily for shoes, but it was too late. I would have to run on, even if my soles were shredded to the bone.

There was no moon and no stars in that dead world, just the deepening of the sky as though the curtain was coming down on a play. At last I reached the outer courtyard of the kitchens. Whatever had stricken the rest of the mansion, the kitchen at least seemed immune. I could hear the clang of pots and even the barks of the cook as he presided over his puppet servants. I strained to hear whether Auntie Three was with him. Could she have gone to look for me? Slipping through the gate, I dashed across to the servants’ quarters and fumbled my way into my room, not daring to light the oil lamp. I called out softly to my little horse, but there was no response. In growing dismay, I pushed aside the barrier of screens to find that she was gone.

I choked. How could I possibly traverse the plains without my steed? Perhaps Auntie Three had taken her. She’d said she would wait for me near the back gate, although it was long past the time we had agreed on. I ran, my breaths coming as heaving sobs. When I reached the gate, a small figure detached itself from the shadows. It was Auntie Three.

“Li Lan! Are you all right?” she asked.

I nodded, barely able to speak. Something was wrong, however.

“You must go!” said Auntie Three. “Your horse is here outside the gate.” Then she asked, “Why do you look at me so strangely?”

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

“Your name?”

“I never told you my name. I said I was girl number six when I arrived.”

In the faint light, Auntie Three looked stricken. Pressing a hand to my aching side, I continued, “You called me by my name earlier as well, when you found me in Master Awyoung’s quarters. I didn’t think about it at the time.”

“Does it matter? You don’t have time for this.”

“Of course it matters! How do I know if I can trust you?”

She was silent for a moment, then she lifted her eyes. “I lied to you.”

I shrank away from her outstretched hand.

“But I did it for your own good.”

“My own good!” I said bitterly. “It’s surprising how many people know what’s best for me.”

“How can I explain? You should go now, before the demons come.”

“So what are you really?” I asked. “Another spy? One of Master Awyoung’s minions, or do you belong to Lim Tian Ching? It was really very clever. I actually liked you.”

“You liked me?” For some reason, this seemed to affect her.

“What does it matter? No doubt you’re here to lock me up again.”

“How can I convince you?” she asked, wringing her hands.

“Then tell me the truth!”

“Listen then, Li Lan, although I am afraid this will only delay you. I am your mother.”

M
y mother! How could this ancient creature be my mother? I had been so sure that Second Wife, in all her lissome beauty, was she. My disbelief must have shown in my face. “You must find me disgusting,” said Auntie Three. “I know that I look nothing like what you expected. Believe me, it has been difficult to hide this from you.”

“But how is this possible?”

“You were right that I came to this household. You met the Third Concubine at our old house? I guessed as much when you spoke to me earlier. Truly, your grandfather was wrong to take her as a concubine. She was young and full of life; she was sorely disappointed in him. I didn’t know then about her connection to the Lim family or to my cousin, who later married Lim Tian Ching’s father. He’s still alive, is he not?”

I nodded, speechless momentarily.

“Still, when I died, I was surprised to see her here and also at the extent of her bitterness. Did she tell you about the smallpox?”

“She said she sent it.” I faltered.

Auntie Three, or my mother, as I supposed I ought to think of her, sighed. I took the chance to study her. Her wrinkled face, scored with a thousand lines, looked weary and frighteningly ancient.

“She did send it. When I died, your father was very ill, and so were many members of our household. What a waste!”

“But you still haven’t explained! Why are you so old now? Did you trade something, just as the Third Concubine did when she caused the smallpox?”

“Yes, I too traded the youth of my spirit body, or part of the essence of my soul. I did what she boasted of doing. I sought out the same creature.”

“How could you do such a thing? And why?”

“Do you not know why? I wish you wouldn’t ask me.”

“But I want to know! You owe me this, at least!”

“I left you alone, motherless. But I traded my youth for your recovery from the smallpox.”

My hand fingered the small scar behind my left ear. That was all that remained of the disease that had ravaged our household. At the time, a fortune-teller had said I was extremely lucky.

“She meant to do as much damage as possible. If you hadn’t died, you would have survived like your father, permanently scarred. Then who would marry you? You would have had no future.”

“You did that for me?”

“It was my fault. Why should you suffer her wrath?”

“How can you say that it was your fault?”

“Because I saw she was unhappy and I did little to befriend her. We were young women living in the same household, except I was married to a man I loved and she was the concubine of an old man. And she wanted a baby desperately. I’ve often thought that if only I had been a little kinder to her, then maybe none of this would have transpired.”

“But she was so horrible about everything!”

“Child, what does it matter now? When you came here, to the Lim household, I could hardly believe it.”

“You recognized me?”

“You looked familiar to me. Your voice and your mannerisms. The stories you told about your amah. She was my amah too, you know.”

My heart was beating with a strange kind of happiness. She had recognized me! My mother had known me!

“I was so shocked that you were here. I was afraid you were dead, but your name hadn’t come up on the lists of the deceased yet.”

“I thought I could find out something about Lim Tian Ching,” I said. “But why are you here in the Lim mansion?”

Auntie Three shrugged. “I was afraid if I went back to the house your father burned for me, looking the way I do now, the Third Concubine would know that I too had made a bargain with a demon. It wasn’t cheap. It cost me more than it cost her simply to save you. If she knew that I’d tried to help you, she might well try something else. So I wandered around, waiting for my time in the Plains of the Dead to be up. I worked in a few great houses in return for room and board.”

“Why didn’t you travel to the world of the living to see me?” I asked.

“I did. A few times only, until the journey became too difficult for me. Because I didn’t return to the house, I couldn’t accept any funeral offerings, which might have made it easier.” The matter of fact way in which my mother said this pierced me to the heart. “Eventually, either she or I would go on to the Courts of Judgment. And you were alive and doing well. Amah was taking good care of you. Can you believe that I’m now older than Amah is?” She gave me a watery smile.

“But how did you come to the Lim mansion?”

“I heard rumors about the young master and his obsession with the daughter of the Pan family.”

“But you said you had been here for years!”

“It has been years. Time passes strangely in this place.”

I clasped her hands in mine.

“Don’t be sad, Li Lan,” she said. “To see you, and speak to you, has been more than I could ever expect. But the night is passing. You must be on your way. I didn’t wish to burden you with this sad family history. I wanted you to live your life free from these old feuds.”

“Come with me!” I said. “My horse can carry us both.”

She shook her head. “I would slow you down. And it would be suspicious if I disappeared as well, especially if they started to dig further. Right now, they think you’re merely a distraction, the object of Lim Tian Ching’s desire.”

“But I need you!” The words burst out before I even realized it.

“You don’t need me, Li Lan,” she said. “You’re no longer a child. But you must go now. If they catch you it will be all for naught. Don’t let them capture you!” She grasped my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. I gazed into her rheumy eyes, the irises clouded with the bloom of old age, and understood with a shudder that she, more so than others, realized what it meant to be in the clutches of a demon.

We hurried through the small back gate. Outside, all was dark and still. The road winding around the estate was deserted, a pale ribbon in the gathering dusk. My little horse stood outside, already caparisoned with saddlebags. When she saw me, she gave a soft whicker. “What’s this?” I asked as I touched the bags. They were stiff and bulky, bound with rope.

“It’s meat. Not real meat, but the food of the dead,” said Auntie Three. “You may need it if they send pursuers. I pray that you will not.”

“How did you know I would need it? Did Er Lang find you?”

She nodded. “I was frightened when he appeared. But he said he was your friend. Otherwise I would never have known to get ready. That man—” Her voice trailed off.

“He’s not human, I know that.”

She looked relieved that I was at least aware of who I was consorting with. As I clambered onto Chendana, my mother fussed over the bags, tightening a girth here and repacking them. Her movements were so precise that I felt a tightness in my throat. How I had missed her! And yet, her method of packing and checking was familiar. We had both been raised by Amah, after all.

“Mother!” I said. She looked up. “Come with me,” I entreated again.

She shook her head. “When all this is over, I’ll try to cross the plains and see you again.” I bent my head in sorrow, but she reached up and planted a dry, whispery kiss on my forehead. Her thin hand caressed my hair for a brief second, then Chendana leaped away, her hooves devouring the surface of the road. I turned behind me. My mother was a tiny figure standing in the road. Her stooped form, with one hand raised, receded rapidly into the gloaming until I could see her no more.