The Ghost Bride (29 page)

At last I stirred myself. The very thought cost me
a great deal of effort, but I finally shuffled along the corridor. As I passed
the living room, I saw Fan sitting with her back to the door in a rattan chair.
Amah sat nearby, sewing something with a mouth that was pursed over her thread.
With a shock, I saw that it was the piece of batik that Yan Hong had sent me
after I had won the needle-threading competition at the Lim mansion, so long ago
it seemed. Now it looked as though Amah was making it up into a sarong to match
a
kebaya
. I caught the tail end of Fan’s
conversation.

“I asked you to get it ready by today, and it’s
still not done.”

“What’s the hurry?” said Amah dourly. “You’re not
in any fit state to go out.”

“Yes, but he might come again. In fact, I’m sure
he’ll come today.”

I froze, a horrid suspicion forming. Fan sighed and
stroked her hair (
my
hair) obsessively, like a woman
caressing the pelt of a cat. “Really, I was surprised at how attractive he
was.”

“Surprised?” said Amah. “And hadn’t you been
mooning over him for weeks before you took sick?”

“Oh . . . yes, I suppose so.
Fetch me a cup of water, will you?”

Amah got up obediently. I was surprised at this
meek acquiescence, but at the door, she stopped. “Do you want hot water or
cold?”

“Hot of course. I have to take good care of
myself.” I couldn’t see Fan’s face, but I could guess at her smug
expression.

A muscle in Amah’s cheek twitched. “That’s right,”
she said. “You always like your water hot.”

I had no idea what prompted Amah to say this. She
knew perfectly well that I hated hot drinks and had often scolded me as a child
for chilling the humors in my body with cool water from the well in our
backyard, or chipping away at the bits of ice that my father bought on rare
occasions. Amah went down the passageway to the kitchen and I followed. There
was someone else I was hoping to see.

I
n the
familiar dim kitchen with its windows obscured by the star fruit tree outside,
Old Wong was seated at the rough wooden table peeling water chestnuts. Amah
reached for the kettle by the side of the stove and felt it with the back of her
hand. With a grunt, she poured some warm water into a teacup. “Wrong cup,” said
Old Wong. It was true. That was not the cup I was accustomed to using, but Amah
merely shrugged and carried it out on a small tray. Old Wong raised his head as
she went by, and it was then that he caught sight of me. At first he looked
astonished, then he squinted as though he wasn’t entirely certain of what he was
looking at.

“Old Wong, it’s me!” I cried. Still, he continued
to stare as though he was befuddled. “Can’t you see me?”

“What happened?” he asked at last. Then in alarm,
“Did you die?”

“No, I’m not dead. But that’s not me! You have to
tell everyone!”

“What are you talking about?”

I was babbling, the words spilling out in my
eagerness. Old Wong furrowed his brow as he tried to follow me, his paring knife
suspended in midair. “Wait, wait,” he said. “Do you mean to say that some other
spirit has possessed your body?”

When I nodded, he dropped his knife with a clatter
and slammed his hand on the kitchen table. “
Aiya!
Little Miss, I told you not to go wandering! How could this happen? And we were
all so happy you recovered.
Sum liao!
This is a
terrible thing.” He rubbed his face vigorously, still muttering to himself, then
scolded me until I burst into tears. “I told you! I warned you not to go away
and leave your body!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” All the fine
ambitions I had had about saving myself came crashing down.

Old Wong sighed. “I don’t know what to do, frankly.
I could tell your father.”

“Father doesn’t want to believe in ghosts,” I said
wretchedly.

“Your amah now, she might believe me.”

“Do you think so?”

“She’s been acting strange ever since you
recovered. Not that I got to see you much the past week. I thought you were
sick, so you didn’t come to the kitchen. But now that I think about it, perhaps
she suspects.”

Hope burgeoned in my heart. “Can you tell her?”

“I’ll do my best. But that doesn’t solve your
problem.”

“Can’t we find an exorcist?”

“We can try. But you don’t look like your spirit is
in good shape.”

I nodded wordlessly. Was it so apparent even to Old
Wong that I had lost substance? And now that I could no longer rest in my body,
my deterioration in this half-dead state was accelerated. Even if Old Wong
hadn’t been illiterate, I doubted that food offerings made to a soul tablet
could halt it.

“That’s why I thought you’d died just now,” he said
bluntly.

“I went to the Plains of the Dead,” I said. “I saw
my mother.”

His eyes widened. “You went? What was it like?”
Then he raised his hand. “No, don’t tell me. It’s not good for the living to
find out too much about the dead. How did this spirit find you anyway?”

Miserably, I explained how I had inadvertently led
Fan here.

“I thought it was strange that the first thing you
did when you recovered was to ask for all the yellow spell papers to be removed
from the windows. Well, I’m probably also guilty.” He sighed and rubbed his
grizzled head. “When you left, I was afraid you couldn’t return, so I removed
one paper from the pantry window, hoping that you could find a way in. That was
my mistake, as I see. I thought I could watch that window since it’s in the
kitchen, but clearly I failed.” Tears welled up in his eyes. Suddenly Old Wong
banged his forehead on the table. “I’m also at fault for this situation!”

“What’s going on?” It was Ah Chun, our maid. She
must have been out on some errand, for in one hand she carried an enamel bowl
filled with blue pea flowers. Seeing Old Wong glower at her, she stammered, “I—I
didn’t mean to be late. I went over to the Chans’ to pick
bunga telang
. I know you wanted to make
pulut
tai tai
for the young mistress, but I heard the most amazing story!”
Old Wong continued to glare at her, nonplussed, but she went on. “They said this
house is haunted! I always knew it!”

The Chans were our neighbors three houses down.
Their backyard wall was covered with the trailing blue flowers of a type of pea
plant. These were much in demand for making glutinous rice cakes laced with
kaya
. Ah Chun loved to go over, as their cook
was a great gossip.

“
Cheh!
” said Old Wong.
“You should stop listening to such nonsense.”

But Ah Chun had noticed the red mark on Old Wong’s
forehead. “Why were you hitting your head on the table?” she asked.

“It was an accident,” he replied angrily.

“But you were talking to someone. I heard you in
the passageway.”

He scowled so hideously that she blinked, then
continued, “Anyway, they said someone had seen spirits entering and leaving our
house!”

“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

O
ld 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 long 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 very 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.