Chapter 18- The Qualifications of a Ghost

“The two seniors are benevolent in the extreme to be considering such a humane course as conferring an honorable post upon a ghost! But surely this is a matter for the Ministry of Rites?” Censor Henshen clasped his hands and saluted the two soaking in the tub.

“Mmm, our first thought as well. But old Qin kicked it over to us, claiming that since the case involved misconduct in the administration of the Imperial Civil Service Exam, that issue must be resolved by the Ministry of Personnel before the Ministry of Rites can step in. It’s a tricky problem, to be sure. Not much in the way of precedent. Making matters even more complicated is that this ghost appears to be, essentially, harmless. At the very least, we haven’t been able to verify any harm greater than alarming visitors here.” The Merchant half smiled.

“A violation of the social order in and of itself! Its three Hun souls should have entered the familial tablets, while its seven Po souls should be either dissipating with its body or already receiving judgement in the underworld. If it wasn’t properly buried or there is a problem with the ancestral tablets, or even if its family lineage was severed, then we can only say that there was a breakdown in the social morals and a failure to properly adhere to ritual and custom. Yet you want to compound the error by elevating this creature to an unearned office.” Goaty wagged his head, his wispy beard dragging through the pool.

Tian tuned out the argument as it quickly devolved into a debate over the importance of ritual, and the proper boundaries of various administrative departments. Not something he particularly cared about. The hot spring was pleasantly warm, though he could stand for it to be hotter. The water did, indeed, feel soft and smooth as promised. Perhaps there was a hotter bath. He would go inquire.

Later tonight, he would drag Liren along to find the ghost. He had seen plenty of evil creatures, and more zombies than he cared to remember, but to the best of his recollection, he had never seen an actual ghost, let alone a virtuous one.

The Saintess was a special case, of course. She was… Tian groped about mentally for a logical reason why the Saintess was not a ghost, and failed. He had, for some reason, classified her as a demon, but when he got right down to it, he was pretty hazy about the differences between the two.

The bones, maybe? Did ghosts have bones? He shook his head. Not enough information, and he was too cozy to go ask. Just five… ten more minutes, and he would go find out about a hotter bath. This pool was just too lukewarm.

Two hours passed.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.” Tian muttered.

“Shame you did, the herbal soak was great.” Hong grinned. “They also offer a variety of massages, but unless they employ ogres, I don’t think it’s going to do much for me.” She laughed as she snagged a little dumpling. The steamed parcels of egg and leek were, in their opinion, quite delicious.

Dinner was an elegant affair, with the fragrant consomme almost as clear as water, yet fresh and vibrant with the taste of herbs and the savoryness of chicken. The rice had been cooked in chicken stock, and was served with poached chicken, cucumbers and a delicious ginger sauce. All light, all tantalizing to the tongue. A servant stood at the side of the room, ready to dart in and refill a tea cup at a moment’s notice. Clearly well practiced in the arts of selective deafness and strategic invisibility.

The Censor had initially ordered wine, then immediately changed his mind with a muttered “Force of habit.” Tian could imagine why. The other diners in the pavilions they passed were all drinking wine. There was something about the red painted wooden beams and the black tiled roof, the lustrous low tables and comfortable cushions, all looking out over ponds and gently swaying trees… Something that seemed to call the spirit upward. Something that invited a sort of blissful tranquility Tian struggled to understand in words.

A place that invited guests to do away with words, then. A place to simply be, content, and even happy.

“I keep thinking about that statue of Concubine Gufu,” Hong murmured, looking through the pale green of her tea into the bottom of her teacup. “On the one hand, seducing an emperor is… a considerable achievement, for a mortal woman. On the other hand, that’s not what the poem said, was it?”

“So weak she needed to be lifted from the bath by her maids. The emperor had invited her here, so he was already a bit interested, but that was what made him seriously pursue her.” Tian suggested, but Censor Henshen shook his head.

“That’s not what the poem says either. I should note that it is just four lines from a much longer poem. The two were, by all accounts, as genuinely in love as Emperor and Concubine could be. Which is a lot. But neither law, custom or common sense suggests that their relationship was anything other than at his whim. She ‘received his advances’ not ‘invited his pursuit.’” The Censor’s voice was wry.

“Appealing prey, weakened. No need to chase what cannot run.” Hong slightly smiled. Nobody thought she was happy.

“More or less. But like I said, every account agrees there was a great deal of mutual affection there.” Censor Henshen spread his hands. “It’s illegal for me to discuss what I saw in the Palace. All I can say is that the Imperial household is like no other… and exactly like all others. The Emperor is a son, a father, a husband, and the head of the household. But he is also the Emperor, engaged with his court, touring the country, even going to the battlefield. You wouldn’t think so, but he works longer hours than a peasant, starting before dawn and often only finishing late into the night.” He paused, and let the silence serve as emphasis. He looked out over the swaying peach trees, then continued.

“The women of the Imperial Family are wives and concubines, mothers and daughters, and that is all. They will never set foot outside the back palace unless it is to visit somewhere as part of the Emperor’s retinue. And even then, they will have no contact with anyone outside the household. Interfering with politics, trying to have any say in national affairs, is a capital offence. One which is enforced mercilessly. The relations between people in the back palace are… delicate. And intense.”

Tian sighed a little and put a bit of chicken in Little Treasure’s bowl, then Hong’s. He paused, then flicked a particularly nice piece into the Censor’s bowl. Everything was always so complicated.

“I told Brother Fu that it was impossible to put three thousand women in a cell. You couldn’t even get a hundred in there, even if you shoved. Frankly, I think Brother Wang is going to feel crowded with just two extra bodies in his cell, and I can’t imagine Sister Su or Sister Mei will be any happier. Brother Wang just takes up too much space. Marriage is a sham. No more nonsense. Sis’ Liren, want to come meet a ghost tonight?”

Most people retired early, a bare few staying up to admire the moon and the scent of night blooming jasmine from garden pavilions. Often with pleasant company, laughter and the exchange of questionable poetry. Those who retired to their rooms were often no quieter than those in the pavilions. Most of the staff were available only during daylight hours. Chambermaids were, however, available at all hours, for rates set by the Inn.

It wasn’t the first time Tian and Hong had seen such an arrangement. Their brothers and sisters had told them exactly what to expect as they adventured along the rivers and lakes. They didn’t discuss it much, other than Hong telling the occasional off-color joke, or Tian forensically examining some of the literature left in hotel rooms and critiquing their medical accuracy.

They were Daoists. Sex was a natural part of life, and of cultivation. It wasn’t taboo. It also wasn’t something either of them wanted to deal with. Finding a ghost crouching at the edge of a staff dormitory building and peeking around a corner came as a relief.

They were sure he was a ghost, despite appearing quite solid. Nothing living could have so much yin qi pouring off of them. Tian and Hong glanced at each other, and subtly got ready to jump in. They paused, when the ghost jumped first, seizing something in the shadows and dragging it out into the moonlight.

“AHAH!” The ghost didn’t quite roar, but they heard it clearly enough. As they did the thud of its fist, as it lay into a writhing bath towel.

“Spare me, Big Brother!”

“Now you remember I’m your Big Brother?! Why didn’t you remember it when you went stealing?”

“I didn’t! Whoever told you I did was a liar!”

“Which eye is lying, my left or my right? Idiot Towel, do you think I can’t see Little Peony’s handkerchief and purse in your folds?”

“I found them. I was bringing them back, Big Bro!”

“Liar!” The ghostly fist rose and fell again. “You know Little Peony would be spurned by her little lover if she lost his token, and whipped by the manager if she lost the silver. You want to make her miserable. Maybe she will hang herself like poor Waterlilly, eh? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“That. That was nothing to do with me…”

“Oh, I believe you. Big Brother will always believe you. But the Black and White Impermanences aren’t so trusting!”

“Big Bro?!”

The fist seemed to get bigger, darkening in the moonlight. “Explain how I wronged you to King Yan!” It fell with a dull thud that echoed in their chests. There was a writhing feeling as the yin qi of the towel convulsed, then dissipated. The ghost that had done the beating sniffed and sorted through the remains of the towel, pulling out a small silk purse and a handkerchief.

“The two immortals blaze in the night. If you are here to send me to King Yan too, I just ask that you deliver these to the chambermaid known as Little Peony. It won’t earn you anything, but such a deed is meritorious in the eyes of Heaven, Earth and Man.”

The ghost walked towards them with a heavy tread, getting bigger in the moonlight. By the time it arrived, it was taller than Liren.

The ghost was shaped like a man, dressed in faded and tattered robes of deep blue. His matted hair was coming loose under his filthy cap. His beard was a wild thing, bushy enough to hide a brace of partridge, and his eyes rolled in their sockets like they were half a size too small for the hole.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He was ugly. Beyond how he dressed, or his hair, or his beard, he was ugly. It was one of those faces that made the homely count their blessings. It seemed to be subtly asymmetrical, the left ear a bit bigger than the right, the right ear a bit more pointed than the left. The chin was squarer on the left, while the right eyebrow was just bushier enough to make it seem like he was always half frowning.

The ghost fought like a bandit, dressed like a vagabond, and spoke like a scholar. Tian couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was seeing. He had just gone looking for the ghost out of curiosity. He hadn’t a clue what to do now that he had found it. At the end of the day, he was his father’s child.

Tian stepped forward, cupped his fist and bowed. “Ancient Crane Monastery West Town Outer Court’s Tian Zihao greets the senior. This is my Martial Sister, Hong Liren. It seems Sir has a story. Might this little daoist invite you to a pavilion for a cup of tea?”

The ghost blinked twice at Tian, then tilted his head back and laughed. It sounded like he hadn’t laughed in a very long time, and was a bit out of practice. Then he nodded, with the ghost of a smile.

“Senior Zhong, this is the Bamboo Medicine Hut’s prized fifty year old White Eyebrow Longevity tea. Please, give me your opinion on it.”

“I’m not sure about having an immortal calling a ghost senior. Nor am I sure I can drink, actually.” The ghost, who they had learned was surnamed Zhong, sat elegantly across the table from the attentive Tian and the bemused Hong.

“I know of at least one Yin spirit that can consume tea qi, and then there are all the offerings of food made to spirits. I don’t see why not.” Tian urged the ghost to drink up.

“You think I ever got offerings? Well, I thank the immortal for his generosity. Cheers!”