The weather was fine today, and A-Zhu rose early.
Golden sunlight fell across the eaves, sliced at an angle before spilling onto the wooden floor in front of the door. With her hands clasped behind her back, she paced half a foot from the edge of the patch of light, heel to toe and toe to heel, back and forth.
Outside, the grass and plants had grown wildly, spreading until they reached her waist.
Amid the dense green shadows came a sudden rustling. Though there was no wind, something stirred.
“Meow! Meow!”
The cry, usually imposing enough to shake the heavens, was strangely ingratiating today.
“Why don’t you come over, then?”
“Meeeow—”
A small black cat with sleek, glossy fur and golden eyes sprang out of the grass. Its tail stood high in the air as it glanced back toward where it had come from. Before long, a smaller white cat emerged behind it, so thin that even its whiskers were uneven and broken.
Oh, it had brought a little friend over to mooch food and drink.
But would what she had prepared be enough?
A-Zhu brought out a bowl of clean water and some silverfish, placing them in the corner of the main room. She squatted down, propping her chin in both hands, and watched as the black and white cats left the sunlight and entered the shadows. They sniffed here and there, then lowered their heads and began to eat.
She extended a hand, hovering it above the black cat’s head, and heard it purr.
Her hand was cold, as though it might give off wisps of chill air even in the warmth of spring. She moved it sideways toward the little white cat.
The white cat instantly puffed up, its back arching high as it sprang half a zhang away in the blink of an eye.
“Aw.”
It wouldn’t play with her.
A-Zhu dropped onto the floor and, in utter self-abandonment, lay flat on her back across the wooden boards.
She turned her head and stared at the water bowl and fish dish within arm’s reach. The thin porcelain trembled and scraped against the floor, as though an invisible hand were gently dragging them. Under the force of her will, the bowl and dish moved slowly and steadily into the sunlight.
The white cat lowered its guard and joined the black cat in eating again.
When they had finished and were about to leave, the black cat came back and affectionately rubbed its nose against A-Zhu’s cheek.
“You’re still the best.”
A-Zhu watched the two little things disappear back into the wild grass.
The most important event she had looked forward to all day.
And just like that, it was over.
Still lying on her back, she rolled once to the left and once to the right. Bored beyond measure, she raised her hand and examined it. Her fingers were long and slender. If one overlooked the unhealthy pallor of her skin, they could barely be considered fine-textured, well-proportioned, and elegant.
Could I have been a young lady from a wealthy family before?
Her thoughts wandered aimlessly.
She had seen the hands of the fishmonger and his wife in the same alley, carrying a faint fishy smell that no amount of washing could remove, along with the unavoidable small cuts left from handling fish scales. She had also seen the hands of Old Madam Huang from the incense-and-candles shop. Soot from smoke and flames stained the creases beneath her fingernails, while thick calluses covered both palms, worn there by cutting paper figures and paper objects with bamboo strips.
All those hands bore traces of labor.
Hers did not.
A-Zhu thought about it for a while, then abandoned the matter halfway through. She sat up and decided she ought to wash the bowls and dish the two cats had finished eating from.
Under her gaze, they moved back into the shadowed corner.
Her ability to manipulate objects from a distance was as thin as paper in the daytime, and it lasted only briefly. If she continued for much longer, she would become exhausted and weak.
A-Zhu shook out her sleeves, picked up the sun-heated bowls and dish through the fabric, and tossed them into a basin filled with water.
She did not remember how long she had lived in this residence.
Nor did she remember her full name.
She knew only that she was called A-Zhu. It seemed she had been born in this empty residence. Sunlight was her natural enemy. If it shone directly on her, her skin erupted in unbearable pain. Even things heated by the sun made her hands feel scalded.
Because of this, A-Zhu lived by night and hid by day. In the streets at dusk, the people could neither see her nor hear her speak. Fortunately, there was a stall selling storybooks in Ping’an Alley. She would choose one, crouch on the ground beneath the light of a wind lantern, and flip through it with a rustle, pretending the wind was turning the pages. The stall owner was always dozing, anyway.
There was also a shop selling pearl hair ornaments in Ping’an Alley.
This flower looked like tinglan, and that one like begonias. Why didn’t they weave a thousand-petaled peony?
She savored every bit of interest to be found in the ordinary little alley, doing her best not to frighten the neighbors.
There was a certain suspicion in her heart, but A-Zhu was timid by nature and absolutely dared not think too deeply about it.
The bowl and dish were clean.
A-Zhu set them in a well-ventilated place to drain, then quietly waited for the long day to pass and the unrestrained night to arrive.
The night watchman struck his wooden clapper several times.
There were few pedestrians left in Ping’an Alley, and every household had lit its lamps.
Splash, splash.
Outside the Chen family’s home stood a low wall, but it could not block the sounds of the vigorous fish thrashing their tails in the water vat.
Fishmonger Chen was humming as he scrubbed things in the west room. His voice sounded like a drake and was terribly unpleasant. In the east room, Mrs. Chen lit a lamp. The paper on the window outlined her figure as she worked on her sewing, earnest and gentle. A-Zhu thought the silhouette looked lovely and could not help watching it for a few moments longer.
She still remembered the purpose of her visit.
She selected the plump silverfish, tied them up with straw cord, and set them beside the water vat, leaving two strings of copper coins there.
Before leaving, she thought about it, then took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped away the water stains she had left around the vat.
The off-key humming abruptly stopped.
Fishmonger Chen pushed open the door and happened to see the courtyard gate half open. A fish tail flapped rapidly as it flashed past the edge of the gate. He let out a strange cry.
“Who’s there? Who!”
A-Zhu pressed herself against the shadows along the alley and hurried away.
The fishmonger and his wife’s bewildered discussion still drifted into her ears.
Mrs. Chen spoke first, her voice carrying a trace of unease. “That person… has come again?”
Fishmonger Chen cursed furiously. “You heartless bastard! Can’t you buy fish during the day? I’m not doing business with your family. Get lost! Don’t let me catch you!”
“Hey, keep your voice down. You’ll wake the neighbors…”
“Good! Then they can keep an eye out for thieves breaking into their homes!”
“They left money behind. They’re not a thief.”
Mrs. Chen picked up the string of copper coins and shook it twice. Her voice dropped, but she still sounded uneasy. “Why don’t we invite a spirit medium tomorrow to take a look? If it’s a person, that’s fine. I’m just afraid… afraid it might be some unclean thing. What do you think?”
By the time A-Zhu ran back to her own gate, she could no longer hear what the fishmonger and his wife were saying.
She lowered her head and looked at her clothes.
Her crescent-white silk skirt was embroidered with large lotus blossoms, their leaves green and their petals pink-white. Even after she had rolled around on the floor several times today, it was still clean and pretty. She was not some unclean thing.
A-Zhu shook out her sleeves and pushed open the half-shut courtyard gate, then froze in place.
There were people in her courtyard.
She had merely gone out wandering for half the night, yet the courtyard, once overgrown with wild grass, was now filled with things. Strange trunks and boxes of all sizes stood everywhere.
The main room of her house stood wide open, bright with lamplight. Two figures moved busily inside, dressed as young servants, one tall and one short. One carried a basin of water while the other wielded a feather duster as they cleaned and tidied.
The small bathhouse on the eastern side was lit as well. If one listened carefully, there was the faint sound of water.
A-Zhu hesitated. For the first time, she felt she had nowhere to set her feet.
“Who are you? Why are you cleaning my house?”
The young servants inside could not hear her, but they chatted idly among themselves.
“It isn’t even dirty. The haunted house we heard about was described so vividly, as though someone lived here every day.”
“The owner must come back regularly.”
“Exactly. Otherwise, it would have taken until the Year of the Monkey to sell. Qinghe, did you hear what Old Zhong, the gatekeeper, said?”
“What did he say?”
“He said this residence was strange. Old Zhong’s nephew lives in Ping’an Alley, and he said no one ever entered or left this house, yet the courtyard gate was always opening and closing on its own. There were strange noises day and night, too. Last month, some muddleheaded thief broke in here. The next morning, he ran out raving like a lunatic, stripping himself stark naked while shouting about a female ghost. In the end, the patrol constables arrested him.”
“…”
“Why did you stop talking?”
“Young Master has already bought this residence, and I still have to live here with Young Master for the long term. Do me a favor and shut up.”
“I was only… giving you a warning. It’s a haunted house. Someone died here.”
The slightly shorter servant noticed that Qinghe’s face had turned even greener. Having failed to get the reaction he wanted, he turned toward the partition door on the eastern side of the main room.
“This room faces east. It’s perfect for Young Master’s study. I’ll go in and wipe down the desk.”
He walked toward the door connecting the main room to the inner chamber.
Because he was carrying a basin of water, he turned sideways in front of the door and lightly nudged it with his shoulder. Yet after a long while, he had opened it only a crack.
“What’s going on?”
Clack.
Something fell to the ground.
The young servant turned around in surprise. “Where did this fish come from?”
The fish thrashed violently, its tail making a racket right beside A-Zhu’s feet.
But A-Zhu had no attention to spare for it.
She was still recalling the conversation between the two servants—
An unclean thing.
A female ghost.
A haunted house.
Someone had died here.
The suspicion that had faintly surfaced in the past, only to be forcibly suppressed countless times, rose up once more.
So she really was dead.
How had she… died?
A female ghost’s boudoir was still a boudoir. Who had given him permission to barge in?
Grief welled up inside A-Zhu. She flung out her sleeves, and both her feet instantly left the ground. Without needing anyone to teach her, she floated over.
A gust of eerie, icy wind rushed in through the front of the room.
The flames on the candle stands wavered, then went out all at once. The crack in the eastern-room door that the servant had pushed open with his shoulder slammed shut.
The servant staggered from the impact. He lost his grip on the basin in his left hand, and it crashed to the ground, spilling water everywhere.
“What happened?”
“Young Master, just now… just now…”
The servant’s heart pounded wildly. It was as though he had found a savior. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet and retreated to the front of the main room. His lips moved toward the person outside, but he could not explain what had happened. All he could do was point at the door with a trembling hand.
“There’s something eerie about that room.”
“You’re the eerie one.”
A-Zhu pressed her lips together and spread both arms wide, firmly guarding her boudoir.
From where she stood, she could not see the person outside the main room clearly. She saw only a tall figure outlined by moonlight, its shadow falling across the floor tiles inside.
The newcomer’s gentle voice calmly instructed, “Qinghe, light the lamps.”
Qinghe was still fairly composed. He withdrew his gaze from the silverfish and answered, “Yes.”
The flames sprang to life, and the warm light of the candle stands spread through the room.
The newcomer stepped inside, one step at a time.
The young man wore a loose cotton robe. His raven-black hair was half bound up with a jade hairpin, and clear droplets of water still clung to his brows. He reached out and braced his hand against the door above her shoulder, then pushed inward.
The clean warmth and moisture clinging to his body surged toward her face.
A-Zhu hastily pulled the door shut again.
“You’re not allowed in.”
The young man seemed able to see her. His eyelashes trembled lightly, and a glimmer passed through his eyes.
She pulled the door even tighter.
“Being good-looking isn’t enough.”