The Ghost Bride (21 page)

“A light?” asked Master Awyoung, lingering. “No
such thing. In fact, you don’t need food or water either. That’s one of the
beautiful things about this world. I can shut you in this room for months, even
years. You’ll be like a doll in a cupboard. And by the time I take you out
again, you’ll be begging to do whatever I tell you to.” The door swung shut.
Outside, I heard him address the puppet servant. “Stay here. Whatever happens,
don’t let her out of this door.” Then his footsteps died away.

I
lay
on the floor for a long time after they had left, not daring to breathe. The
faint gleam of light from beneath the door revealed the shadow of the servant
outside. It was a silent guard that would never sleep, never eat, and never
succumb to weariness. I supposed I was fortunate that they hadn’t maimed or
tortured me. But if I ever fell into the hands of Master Awyoung, I didn’t think
I would remain unscathed for long. That is, if I survived an interrogation by
the ox-headed demons. Where they had been suddenly called to, and when they
might reappear, was an alarming prospect. And my mother. The sting of her
betrayal cut deep, even though I tried to tell myself she had no idea who I was.
But the faint, sweet image I had long treasured of the gentle mother of Amah’s
stories and my father’s sighs was shattered. The worst part was that there was
nothing in her demeanor or speech that drew me to her. She was calculating and
sly, exactly as the Third Concubine had depicted her. I told myself that it was
an act, and she would surely return to rescue me. My ears twitched in the
silence, waiting for the sound of light footsteps, but they never came.

W
hen I
opened my eyes again, it was still dark behind the nailed-down shutters of the
window. I must have slept a little, for my bones ached from lying on the cold
floor. Strange that one could suffer physically even in this world of the dead,
a thought that didn’t bode well for the prospect of torture. Master Awyoung’s
threat of walling me up like a doll in a box filled me with dread. The one
solace I had was that I wasn’t hungry, at least not yet. Anxiously, I sprang up.
The clatter triggered a sharp rustle from the puppet servant stationed outside
the door. I froze, hardly daring to breathe. It took many false starts before I
made my way over to the window and began to work on the shutters again with the
scale. The small, regular noises appeared to soothe the puppet servant, for
after a while the shadow that I could see under the door fell back into a
trance. Still, I feared that any sudden sound would propel it out of its
stupor.

I began to scrape harder, feeling a dull pain in my
wrist and shoulder, my mind wandering to Tian Bai. Where was he, and what was he
doing? How many days had elapsed in the world of the living? Why had I been in
such a hurry to reach this wretched place? I wished I had lingered to share his
dreams further. Remembering the firm pressure of his hands upon me, I blushed in
the darkness. I replayed our conversation endlessly, trying to recall his exact
words and tone of voice. My fancies ran on, imagining what it would be like to
marry Tian Bai, sit by his side, and slide my arms around him at night. A dark
thought crossed my mind, however. Such a marriage would make me a member of the
Lim family, dooming me to reenter this house if I ever truly died and passed on
to the Plains of the Dead. It had a deflating effect on my fantasies.

I don’t know how long I stood there in the
darkness, sawing at the slats with Er Lang’s scale. It seemed ages before I
managed to pull out first one, then another. My hands and neck ached from the
tension. Through the gap that I had made I could see the dim outlines of trees
and guessed I was facing part of the estate grounds. There were no fine gardens
there, only a bleak slope of dry grass and, in the distance, a high wall topped
with tiles. Despite the pall of night, my eye was caught by a flickering
movement, a cloud of swift wings that dipped and wheeled. It passed so quickly
that I wondered if I had been mistaken, but then I remembered that I had seen no
wild birds in this world of the dead.

The window slats were made out of some kind of hard
timber, perhaps the legendary
belian
, or Borneo
ironwood, which is said to be as hard as metal. From time to time I checked the
edge of Er Lang’s scale, fearing that I had blunted it, but to my surprise it
was as sharp as ever. I tested it against my finger and a few drops of blood
welled up. The sight relieved me, for though I had no physical body here, I was
glad that, unlike the carcass of the pig that had been butchered in the
courtyard, I could still bleed. Exhausted, I sat down and blew tentatively
across the fluted edge of the scale. Again, I heard the faint musical sound of a
distant wind whistling across vast empty spaces. It called to me, like a
flautist playing a lonely melody on a moonlit mountainside.

T
he sky
was infused with the gray colorlessness before dawn. I had dozed off again for a
few minutes and, with a sense of panic, I jumped up and ran to the window,
wondering if the ox-headed demons had returned. Peering out, I was startled by a
dark shape, like a grotesque mushroom, that rose up abruptly outside the window.
I stifled a scream.

“I was waiting for you to wake up. Goodness knows,
it took you long enough.”

I knew that voice; those bored, aristocratic tones
so at odds with the attractive timbre. “Er Lang?” I whispered.

“You’re lucky I got here.”

“But I thought you couldn’t come.”

“Technically I shouldn’t be able to. As I mentioned
before, this is a place for human ghosts. But I had a little help.”

“From whom?”

“Don’t you remember when we first met?”

I thought wildly at first of the mangrove swamp,
but as though he could read my thoughts he cut in impatiently. “No, the medium
by the temple wall. That’s right,” he continued, “You were there to get some
spell against Lim Tian Ching (much good that it did you), but I was there to
talk to her about the Plains of the Dead.” There was a certain smugness in his
tone.

“So you managed after all,” I said.

“Well, it was a little difficult. And as you can
see, I’m not here in my physical body.”

I glanced out of the window. The dark mass that I
had mistaken for a mushroom was none other than Er Lang’s ubiquitous basket hat.
“You look the same to me.”

“Of course I do. It’s just not my physical body.
But it’s good enough for spying.”

“Then what did you need me for?” I was beginning to
feel indignant. “Why did you send me here to find out about Lim Tian Ching when
you were planning to come by yourself all the time?”

“You were a bonus, so to say. And it wasn’t as
though I was entirely sure that I could come here anyway.”

“Do you know I’m supposed to be interrogated by
demons?”

“Yes, well, it’s not my fault that you proved to be
such an inept spy.”

“Inept!” I inadvertently raised my voice and the
puppet servant outside my door stirred suddenly. Hurriedly, I began to hum and
after a breathless moment, the shadow behind the door lapsed back into
stillness.

“Why are you humming?”

“Because there’s a puppet servant guarding me,” I
hissed. “It responds to strange noises.”

“Oh, is that so?” I hated the way Er Lang sounded
so amused. “Actually I ought to thank you,” he continued. “If it hadn’t been for
you I probably couldn’t have reached this place, despite the medium’s help.”

“How so?”

“Why, you called me of course. If you hadn’t, I
might not have made it.”

I turned over the scale in my hand. It had a soft
radiance, like a pearl. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday evening, in the reckoning of this place.
I spent some time finding my way around the estate. It really is terribly
ostentatious.”

“Why didn’t you come and let me out then?”

“I couldn’t locate you until you called me again.
Besides, there were a number of interesting things going on. But first, I want
an update.”

In a low voice, I hurriedly recounted all that I
had observed, including the presence of the ox-headed demons. I left out the
part about my mother, however, feeling ashamed for having gone to seek her in
the first place. Er Lang listened with no comment, merely nodding his head from
time to time so that the enormous hat bobbed like a boat upon the water.

“Is that all?” he said when I had fallen
silent.

I flushed. “Yes. It’s not very much, is it?”

“Well, at least we’ve discovered that Lim Tian
Ching’s great-uncle is also implicated in whatever is going on. Do you remember
any of the other guests?”

“There was an old man, Master Awyoung. He was the
one I met when I first arrived.”

“It’s too bad you weren’t able to remain incognito
longer,” said Er Lang coolly. “But I suppose we shall have to make do with what
we have. Master Awyoung is an interesting development. He’s been in the Plains
of the Dead for a suspiciously long time.”

“He said he was tired of it and wanted to go on to
the Courts of Hell, but his descendants prayed for him to have more time to
enjoy their funeral offerings.”

Er Lang gave a sharp laugh. “Did he tell you that?
Just between us, I don’t think that Master Awyoung is in any rush to go to the
courts for judgment. In fact, his name came up precisely because he has stayed
almost two hundred years here.”

“How did he manage it?”

“The official record is the same as what you have
told me—namely, that due to the filial piety of his descendants, his term was
extended. But I have my doubts that he really wants to go. In the first place,
he has plenty of sins awaiting retribution in the courts, which he’s in no hurry
to face. No doubt he has made a deal with someone, possibly even one of the Nine
Judges of Hell, for his cooperation. Secondly, having an agent like him is
useful because the Plains of the Dead is an interim place. From here it’s easy
to coordinate movements between planes of existence, or even return to the world
of the living as a shade. For what could be more incognito than a ghost?”

“But he said he never went anywhere.”

“You really are naive. It’s rather sweet, in a way.
Besides, he could easily send a spy or a courier. Someone like Lim Tian Ching,
for example. I’d like to know who is pulling the strings behind Master
Awyoung.”

“I thought he was mad.”

“Yes, well, that would be a rather convenient
persona to cultivate.”

I was crestfallen.

“In any case,” said Er Lang, “that’s certainly a
useful piece of information. Let’s see what else we can sniff out.”

“If you pull out the bars, I think I can climb
out,” I said.

“I’m beginning to wonder whether it might be better
to leave you where you are.”

“What?” My voice emerged in a squeak.

“Think of what would happen if they should find you
gone. And also, what else you might glean from Master Awyoung if he thinks
you’re his prisoner. In fact, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be questioned by the
ox-headed demons as well. I’d like to know which guard company they come
from.”

“If they read my soul, it would mean the end of
your undercover investigation.”

There was a gleam of teeth from within the shadows
of his hat. “Well, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it? I suppose I had better
let you out.”

I stared hard at Er Lang, wondering whether he
really would have left me behind if it suited his purpose.

“Oh, don’t look so hostile,” he said lightly. “It’s
not becoming.”

I watched in fascination as he began to break the
window slats. His hands were long and slender and, in the pale dusky light,
looked entirely human. Yet they possessed a strength beyond their refined
appearance as he snapped off the ironwood slats with ease. He made hardly any
noise, but I glanced nervously at the shadow of the puppet servant under the
door.

“What about my guard?” I whispered. “It was under
strict orders not to let me out.”

“Of the window?”

“Oh. I see. They said the door.”

“That’s the problem with these automatons,” said Er
Lang cheerily. “Quite brainless, though utterly devoted and completely
trustworthy. No wonder my investigation was stalled until I could find a way to
come here myself.”

“Couldn’t you have asked some other ghost to help
you?”

Er Lang paused. “What makes you think you were the
first?”

While I considered this uncomfortable thought, he
removed the last barrier. I scrabbled to lever myself over the high window
ledge. After a few minutes of this, Er Lang reached over and pulled me out. I
had been afraid that his hands would be chill and inert, like the puppet
servant, but to my surprise they were warm, with a firm grip. Despite myself, I
blushed. I was not used to being touched by a man, and this contact, brief
though it was, made me uncomfortably conscious of Er Lang’s tapering, elegant
fingers, so different from Tian Bai’s square hands. Embarrassed, I turned my
face aside, focusing instead on wriggling through the narrow window. My hips and
legs scraped against the frame and actually became stuck at one point.

“Please stop!” I gasped.

Er Lang tilted his head as though he were listening
to some far-off noise. Then ignoring my protests, he braced himself against the
wall and simply pulled harder. With a creak, the window frame bowed and gave an
extra inch, allowing me to slide out like a crab from an upturned pot.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I said. “That hurt!”

“It would have been worse to be stuck,” he said.
“Quick! There are gardeners coming.”

With little ceremony, we scuttled into some nearby
bushes, Er Lang half dragging me along. “Keep down!” he hissed. From my crouched
vantage point, I could see a pair of feet walking with the monotonously jerky
gait of a puppet servant. It was followed by two more sets of footwear.
Wordlessly, they moved in tandem, clipping and trimming the shrubbery. I shrank
back against Er Lang as they approached us. A faint fragrance of incense clung
to his clothes, surprising in that dead world. Closing my eyes, I breathed in
the refined, courtly aroma of aloeswood. It made me think of hushed voices and
poems read by candlelight, the time measured out by the elegant practice of
burning a stick of costly incense. I could not imagine Er Lang taking part in
poetry competitions; he would probably say something perverse. Still, who had
scented his robes for him? I wrenched my thoughts away. It really didn’t matter
what Er Lang did in his spare time, which might be devouring maidens or diving
for catfish, for all I knew. I shouldn’t be too curious about him. Yet, I was
exquisitely aware of our proximity and how my back was pressed against the
warmth of his chest.