The Ghost Bride

by Yangsze Choo

  “Of course I’m glad to see you!” I said weakly. “You fool! I thought you died.”

  He laughed. “I am not so easy to kill. Though it was a close thing.”

  “You look well.” I struggled to sit up. Indeed, he did. He was just the same as when I had first met him; even his clothes were no longer torn and scorched as they had been in the Plains of the Dead.

  “This is my physical body,” he said. “But you are in very bad shape.”

  I lifted my hands up. They were now completely transparent. “I’m dying.”

  “Yes.” His voice was calm.

  A curious peace filled me now that I had come to the end of things. I wondered whether it was a side effect of dying, or because Er Lang was here and I no longer felt anxious.

  “Where did you go?” I whispered. “I called you, but you didn’t come.”

  “It took some time to recover. Then of course, I went to make my report.”

  “What did they say?”

  “The case is pending but we have a chain of evidence now, thanks to the letter you acquired. Proceedings have begun against Master Awyoung and the Lim family.”

  “I’m glad, though I was sorry for Lim Tian Ching in the end. They were just using him as a cat’s-paw for their dirty work.”

  “That’s very good of you, considering you were to be his compensation.” I heard the irony in Er Lang’s voice, but was too weak to retort. Besides, I had other things on my mind.

  “He said something about bringing murder charges against Tian Bai. Is it a legitimate case?”

  Er Lang paused. “It’s not under my jurisdiction. Do you wish me to find out?”

  “Please.”

  “Why are you so meek all of a sudden?” he asked.

  “I’m dying, of course!” I opened my eyes again in irritation. “Can’t you let me die with some dignity?”

  “I don’t understand why you’re not back resting in your body, instead of traipsing around the middle of a cemetery.”

  “Oh. I didn’t tell you. Someone else has possessed my body.”

  “What?” There was nothing for it but to tell him the whole sorry tale. I could see him shaking his head before I finished.

  “Unbelievably stupid,” he murmured.

  “You were the one who told me to go to the Plains of the Dead!” I had no strength to shout at him anymore.

  “Not you, me.”

  “Why?” I had slipped down, unable to sit up. My head was pillowed on his knee. Strange that he could support my spirit form, but there were a lot of odd things about Er Lang.

  He made a sound of annoyance. “I should have considered the possibility. But I thought the ox-headed demons were guarding your body.”

  “Well, it’s too late now.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  We didn’t speak for a while. It was a balmy night, redolent with the sweet breath of trees. The long grass rose around us, and the faint trails of fireflies mingled with the low-hanging stars. Though I couldn’t see his face, he appeared to be deep in thought.

  “Will you do something for me?” I said at last. “After I die, please take care of my family. Make sure that Fan doesn’t cause any trouble. Maybe exorcise her, if you can.”

  I saw the gleam of teeth beneath his hat. “Why not?”

  “And one more thing.”

  “You seem to have a lot of requests for a dying person.” He didn’t seem to take my demise seriously at all, which pained me. After all, I had missed him desperately, shedding tears and suffering agonies of guilt when I thought he had died. If I had been stronger, I would have pointed it out but it was too late to argue with him.

  “Take off your hat.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to see a dragon face-to-face.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “It’s supposed to be lucky to see a dragon. I’d like some luck for my next life.”

  He was silent for some time. Then he removed the hat.

  Moonlight shone on his face. I don’t know what I had been expecting—perhaps the head of the great beast I had glimpsed on the Plains of the Dead—but I should have considered that he had a human form as well. For he was handsome beyond belief. Beautiful, even. Gazing at the pure, keen countenance, I was so flustered that I couldn’t stop staring. The long aristocratic eyes, the sharp brows like swords. My vision was filled with the fine planes of his face and the light and shadow of his pale skin and dark hair. But it was his gaze that captured me. Those eyes, which beneath the slant of his lashes, were both fierce and tender, searing in their clarity. For an instant, I understood the depths of his inhumanity, that monstrous nobility that placed him far above me. I could not hide before it. I was entranced, like a moth drawn to the moon.

  Then he spoiled it all by saying, “Well, can you die happy now?”

  Abruptly reminded of his flippancy, I couldn’t bite my tongue. “Is this why you think you’re irresistible to women?”

  Er Lang smiled. It was a dazzling smile that made me feel faint. “I always tell the truth.”

  I turned my face away. The last thing I wished was to give him the same reaction that every other woman must have done when they saw his face. No wonder he had such an opinion of himself, I thought, even as my own treacherous heart raced like a runaway horse. This was not how I’d been planning to die, but so be it. I couldn’t expect to win every round. I had, in fact, already lost in this life. But Er Lang was shaking me.

  “Are you really dead?”

  “How is it that you can touch me?”

  “You’re a spirit. I have jurisdiction over spirits in my official capacity,” he said.

  “I thought you were just a minor government official.”

  “Not after this case is settled.”

  “Good for you.” I closed my eyes. The strength was draining out of me, like water running through my fingers, but he was shaking me again.

  “What is it?”

  “You can’t die. Yet. I may need you as a witness.”

  “It’s too late for me.” An overwhelming weakness ate away at my limbs. My form was visibly fading. Er Lang looked at me sharply.

  “There is another way. You’re almost a hungry ghost now. Don’t you know that you can sustain yourself with the qi of another?”

  I shuddered. That was what Fan had done for years, sapping the life of her lover. “I couldn’t do that to Tian Bai. I would rather die.”

  Er Lang’s glance was unreadable. “Do you love him so much? In any case, that’s not what I was proposing. It would be illegal.”

  I couldn’t look too long at him. His beauty was unnerving, almost unnatural. “What do you suggest, then?”

  “Something that emperors have killed for.”

  I was too weak to roll my eyes. “And what would that be?”

  “Why, my life force of course.”

  I could barely comprehend what he was talking about. Something about procedural irregularities, documentation, and sustaining a witness. I faded in and out of consciousness briefly, though I had the odd feeling that he was trying to convince himself as much as me.

  “. . . would change you, of course.”

  “What?” I said weakly.

  “You are dying,” he said suddenly. “Quick! Choose!”

  I struggled to regain myself. “Choose what?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Whether you want my breath or my blood.
”

  Sorcerers were said to feed their familiars through a hole in the foot, but even in my debilitated state, I could not conceive of drinking his blood. To do so would be no better than some evil revenant, or pontianak—a wraith with all its attendant horrors.

  “Breath,” I said at last.

  “Then hurry!” he said.

  Too proud to show my fears, I fell into his arms. He was close, too close. I clenched my eyes. His lips brushed mine, briefly at first, as though he was considering it. A shiver traced its way between my shoulder blades. I thought he was about to say something. Then he exhaled.

  His breath was hot and clean, a wind that pierced and melted me in an instant. The world spun, the stars in the sky guttered like candles. I knew nothing but the grip of his arm and the heat of his mouth. There was a burning sensation wherever his skin touched me, against my cheek, my neck. Forcing my lips open wider, he pressed his mouth hard against mine. His breath penetrated me, permeating every fiber of my being until I couldn’t contain it. I wanted to bite him, to scream. His tongue darted into my mouth, swift and slippery as an eel. Shaking, I dug my fingers into his back until he gasped in pain. My chest squeezed, a shudder racked my body. From far away, I heard him groan deeply, but I would not let go. This, then, was how a ghost could steal the life out of someone. I felt feverish and a strange languor overcame me. Then he was gently shaking me. “Enough.”

  I opened my eyes reluctantly. We had fallen together into a tangle. For a dreadful moment, I thought he was dead. Then I felt his chest rise and fall beneath me. The moon had turned everything to silver, as though we inhabited a world of grays and blacks. I pressed my face into his chest. His curious Han clothes couldn’t hide the lithe grace of his body, nor the taut planes of his abdomen. I could hear the beating of his heart, the slow coursing of the blood in his veins. I felt intensely alive, as though I could flit to the moon or plumb the depths of the ocean. But he didn’t move for so long that fear seeped into me. In the moonlight, his face was drawn and exhausted. As I watched, he opened his eyes.

  The pale light had stolen all colors, so that they were unfathomable, like the sea at night. I was afraid he had forgotten where he was, or regretted his decision. Then Er Lang was looking at me ruefully. “You have taken at least fifty years of my life!”

  I was stricken. “Take it back!”

  “I can’t. But fortunately, my life span is many times yours.”

  “How long can a dragon live?”

  “A thousand years, if he is lucky. Not all of us are, of course.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, my gaze was drawn to the strong line of his throat. If he had given me blood, I would surely have killed him. But Er Lang was struggling to sit up.

  “I should have stopped you sooner. Though I now understand why men succumb to ghosts.” He spoke lightly, but my ears blazed with mortification.

  “You were the one who put your tongue in my mouth!” I blurted out, regretting it instantly. To talk about other people’s tongues was the worst, revealing the depths of my inexperience. And yet, the memory of his made me shiver and burn, as though I had a fever. It hadn’t been like this with Tian Bai; it was easy to understand where I stood with him. But he had been courting me, whereas Er Lang was an entirely different commodity. We did not have that sort of relationship, I reminded myself.

  But he merely gave me a wry glance. “I was a little carried away.”

  “Thank you,” I said at last. I realized it was the first time I had thanked him formally.

  “I fear you may be changed in more ways than one.”

  “How so?”

  “I can’t tell right now. I don’t usually go around offering qi to people.”

  I looked down at myself. The translucency that had affected me had disappeared. I seemed solid, almost alive except for the faint spirit light around me. That itself had faded until it was no more than a pale glow. Er Lang put his hand on my face. I flinched as though he had burned me.

  “There is earth on your cheek,” he said coolly. I rubbed my face, embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything. Clouds scudded over the moon, so that the night lost its luminosity. The weather was changing, the air thickening as though before a storm.

  “What will you do now?” I asked.

  “I was on my way to a council, in fact, when you called me. No doubt they shall be quite put out, for the warrants will be delayed.”

  “So Lim Tian Ching is still loose?”

  “Yes, but I would worry more about Master Awyoung.” Er Lang lifted his head sharply, his expression alert. “I must go.”

  “Why?”

  “There are ox-headed demons on the move. I cannot tell which guard company.”

  “Take me with you!”

  “Certainly not! I don’t want my witness damaged.”

  I tried to shout at him, but a gale blew my words back into my face. Sticks and leaves scattered like a whirlwind, and then he was gone. I stood alone on the deserted road.

  Chapter 35

  Despite my earlier resolution to seek out the medium, a mounting anxiety drove me to turn Chendana’s head toward home. Something was happening in the spirit world, and I feared for my family. Er Lang would no doubt disapprove, but I didn’t care. My body felt strong, the blood singing in my veins. Chendana raced through the graveyard, her mane whipping back into my face. The night sky, so clear earlier, was now shrouded with clouds. The moon had hidden her face.

  We were at the outskirts of Malacca before the exultation that had filled me drained away, like a wave that crashes on the shore. I was overcome by a sense of desolation. Er Lang had left so abruptly that it felt as though part of myself had been ripped loose. I wrenched my thoughts away, wondering instead what had happened to the ox-headed demons. They had been absent for so long that I didn’t know whether Fan was even aware that they had guarded my house. Otherwise she might not have removed all the spell papers from the windows. In all likelihood, she had done so for her own benefit, thinking it would be easier for her to come and go if she needed to. As we entered the town, the sky took on a brooding look. Even the spirit lights on the streets were diminished and scattered. Scarcely anyone or anything was abroad, yet my skin prickled. When we reached the house, I saw at once that something was wrong.

  Although the hour was fairly late, lights blazed from all the windows. I slid off Chendana’s back, telling her to wait for me. It was surprisingly difficult to pass through the front door. A good sign, but I had no time to appreciate it. I ran through room after room looking for Amah or my father. It wasn’t difficult to find them. All I had to do was follow the sound of screaming.

  Fan was standing in the dining room, clutching my father as a shield. The whites of her eyes showed all around so that she looked like a madwoman. The object that she shrank away from was nothing more than an infusion of herbs on a serving tray.

  “Take it away!” she screamed.

  Amah picked up the glazed pot and moved toward her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. But Fan let out a shriek, as though she had been offered a scorpion.

  “Tell her to leave this house!”

  “Li Lan, what’s the matter with you?” asked my father. Bewildered, his pupils were unnaturally dilated. I knew he had been smoking opium again.

  “She’s taken leave of her senses,” said Amah. She took another step toward Fan. “You’re still sick,” she said soothingly. “This will make you feel better.”

  About to dart forward, I stopped, remembering that no one besides Fan could see me. Instead,
I concealed myself in the wall. With a swiftness that surprised me, Fan dashed the pot from Amah’s hand. It shattered on the tiled floor and my father gave a cry of distress. It was part of a set from my mother’s dowry.

  Fan jumped away, avoiding any of the liquid in it. “This old woman means to poison me!” she said to my father. “She’s the one who caused my illness. She put a curse on me!”

  “Is this true?” my father asked.

  Amah shook her head, but her distress merely made her look like an old woman in her dotage. “I would never—”

  But Fan cut her off. “Ask her to turn out her pockets,” she said. “Then you’ll see what charms she’s been carrying against me.”

  My father set his mouth. I knew how much he abhorred superstition and his recent disagreements with Amah over my illness. “Show me!”

  Amah was crying. With trembling hands she pulled out several packets of herbs, as well as some yellow spell papers.

  “How dare you bring such things into my house!” said my father. “I won’t have you upsetting Li Lan like this! I should have stopped you years ago.”

  “They’re not against Li Lan!” said Amah. “They’re to ward off demons and evil spirits. Old Wong said—”

  But my father had cut her off. “What rubbish are you talking about?”

  Scooping up the pathetic little pile of charms, he opened the courtyard door and cast them out into the night. I longed to leap forward and defend Amah, but dared not let Fan see me. For all she knew, I had already faded into a wraith.

  Fan folded her arms. “Out!” she said. “I want her out of this house tonight!” She pointed at the open door with a glint of triumph. Then her features crumpled.

  I smelled it before I saw it; that burned carrion scent that I could never forget. The skin on my back seized up. Not daring to turn my head, I stared fixedly down at a monstrous shadow that inched its way across the floor. Whatever caused it was entering from the open door. Closer and closer it loomed, the wicked tines casting their own curved shapes on the tiled floor. Fan’s eyes were wide and glassy. Despite my hiding place in the wall, a sick fear gripped me. At last, unable to endure it, I turned. It was an ox-headed demon.