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Zhou Zishu wasn’t sure which uninvited guest was worse: the clingy kid, or the ghost. Zhang Chengling, his neighbor’s nephew, decided without his permission that he was a Father Figure. He came over every few days to drop off food from Auntie Zheng and stayed over to eat, regardless of how pointedly Zhou Zishu told him he ate alone.
But at the end of the day he left and went home. Wen Kexing was a constant presence in the Four Seasons Manor. He claimed it was because his memories were locked away in the Manor, but he also claimed that Zhou Zishu was his true fated love, so he couldn’t be trusted. It was just as likely that Wen Kexing chose to stay there so he could continue to leer at Zhou Zishu and make inappropriate comments about his ass.
Both were terrible and left Zhou Zishu wishing he hadn’t returned to the Four Seasons Manor for his retirement-slash-final years. It would be better to die alone in a gutter than spend another day babysitting or avoiding them.
“How can such a beauty debase himself doing housework?” Wen Kexing tutted away from his perch on a dusty desk. “You should be spending all day lounging in bed being fed wine. Or on a pedestal, regarded as a work of art.”
Zhou Zishu kicked the dustpan and brush in Wen Kexing’s direction. “If you’re so concerned, you clean this up,” he said without looking up from his sweeping.
Wen Kexing laughed, a sound that was far too musical than it had any right to be, and kicked at the dustpan. His foot phased through it, of course.
Rather than think more about Wen Kexing and his laugh and the smirk no doubt on his face, Zhou Zishu focused on the task at hand. If he skipped lunch and his body didn’t fade early, he could probably finish cleaning the Manor’s office. Then all the working parts of the Manor would be clean and he could use it as a school again. If he wanted students, which he decidedly did not.
There was a knock at the door in the late afternoon, just when Zhou Zishu had set aside the dustcloths to examine the old records in the filing cabinets.
“Come on in, Chengling!” Wen Kexing hopped off the desk and walked towards the front of the Manor, making sure to phase partially through Zhou Zishu as he passed. He took great pleasure in watching Zhou Zishu shiver from the ghostly contact, so of course Zhou Zishu did his best to not show any response. Again, the only way to deal with Wen Kexing was to ignore his shameless attempts to get attention.
He looked at the files in front of him -- old liability waivers, mortgage records from twenty years ago, notes on class schedules -- and tossed them in the trash on the way to the kitchenette.
Zhang Chengling was already filling three plates of wontons from a large container, as though he lived here and had any right to rifle through Zhou Zishu’s cabinets for dishes. And Wen Kexing was encouraging him, telling the brat to add more wontons to Zhou Zishu’s plate.
He was about to say something nasty when his stomach grumbled. Perhaps skipping lunch had been a bad idea.
“Shifu, please, eat!” Zhang Chengling gestured to the table. “My aunt let me help make some.”
“Not your shifu,” Zhou Zishu said under his breath. Still, he sat and listened to Zhang Chengling talk about his schoolday. It was the price he had to pay to get Auntie Zhang’s cooking. If it wasn’t for her sending Chengling over every few days with food, he would eat nothing but instant noodles. And while Zhou Zishu was perfectly content eating junk every day (it’s not like he would live long enough to suffer the consequences), free meals were cheaper.
The kid staggered slightly when he stood to wash the dishes.
“What happened?” Zhou Zishu could tell he was hiding a bruised rib. He had likely run afoul of the gang at his school.
Zhang Chengling waved his hands and smiled weakly. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” And then he turned back to the sink, aggravating his rib.
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes and left the kitchenette with a huff. “Are you coming?” He could practically hear Zhang Chengling’s excitement as he followed, as well as Wen Kexing’s arched brow and smug smile.
“Alright,” Zhou Zishu said, standing in the middle of the practice room. “Hit me.”
Zhang Chengling’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t!”
Zhou Zishu gave him a flat look.
“What if I, you know…” Zhang Chengling gestured to Zhou Zishu’s body. “You’re not well.”
“You can’t make the cancer worse,” Zhou Zishu said. He stepped forward and patted his chest. “Hit me. Or I won’t let you come over anymore.” Wen Kexing snorted from where he was leaning on the wall, but he thankfully didn’t call out his bluff.
Zhang Chengling took a breath, hunched up his shoulders, and threw the weakest, most awkward punch Zhou Zishu had ever seen. He hit Zhou Zishu’s collarbone and nearly fell over from the effort.
He was, perhaps, a lost cause.
But Zhou Zishu didn’t have anything better to do with his time. He pursed his lips as he thought of what to correct first. “Again. Elbows and shoulder down.”
The second punch was better in that Zhang Chengling didn’t twist his body around.
“I said shoulders down. Again.”
Teaching was more difficult than Zhou Zishu remembered. Zhang Chengling was trying, that was clear, but there was a disconnect between his head and his body that prevented him from really understanding what he was doing.
Frustration was starting to show on Zhang Chengling’s face when Wen Kexing sauntered over. “Bring your back foot forward with you when you step in. Otherwise you’ll be stretched out like a ferret.”
The analogy made Zhang Chengling snort and relax enough that his next punch actually felt like something. But it itched in the back of Zhou Zishu’s mind. And later, when Chengling was working on his stance, they way Wen Kexing knew exactly what Zhou Zishu was trying to teach stood out as well.
It wasn’t until Zhang Chengling left (“Thank you, shifu!”, and shit, Zhou Zishu couldn’t correct him) that the pieces slid into place. Wen Kexing taught like he knew the Four Seasons techniques. Years upon years ago, stretched out like a ferret was a favored saying of his shifu.
He would have to study Wen Kexing more carefully.
The shrine was the first room Zhou Zishu had cleaned when he arrived at the Manor. He wasn’t particularly religious for most of his life, but in his twilight years he found himself lighting incense and leaving offerings every so often. Just in case.
Tonight he took a cloth to the tablets to clean them. Dust from cleaning the rest of the Manor built up faster than he ever expected.
“Where’s my tablet?” Wen Kexing leaned over Zhou Zishu’s shoulder and grabbed an orange from the altar.
Zhou Zishu snatched the orange away. “Tablets and offerings are for the dead of Four Seasons Manor. Not pervert layabouts.”
“What about pervert layabouts who belong to the Manor?” Wen Kexing grabbed another orange and started peeling it before Zhou Zishu could confiscate that one as well. “I may not remember my life, but I’m sure I was a student here.” He popped an orange segment into his mouth with a grin.
There were, of course, no records of a Wen Kexing ever studying at the Four Seasons Manor. Zhou Zishu had checked, fishing through the liability waivers and receipts he’d thrown away. Qin Huaizhang had been meticulous with his books, so there was no way Wen Kexing had slipped through the cracks.
And he couldn’t have studied under Qin Huaizhang’s master, because his clothes and mannerisms indicated that he was the same age as Zhou Zishu. So if he had studied at the Manor, it must have been under Qin Huazhang, and at the same time as Zhou Zishu. The only conclusion was that Wen Kexing wasn’t his name.
“You’ll get a tablet when you tell me who you really are,” Zhou Zishu said.
Wen Kexing draped himself across the altar and wailed dramatically. “You’re so cruel, asking for the one thing I cannot give.”
Zhou Zishu shrugged and stood to leave. Wen Kexing held out a section of his orange. Zhou Zishu huffed, but took it anyway.
Zhang Chengling burst into the Four Seasons Manor late one afternoon, covered in dirt and clutching his arm to his chest. Zhou Zishu was about to scold him for tracking in dirt and nearly missing his lesson when he heard the boy’s arm let out a tiny scream.
“What,” Wen Kexing said, frost at the edge of his voice, “was that?”
Zhang Chengling ducked his head in apology. “A kitten?” He rushed forward to show Zhou Zishu. Sure enough, tucked into the crook of Zhang Chengling’s elbow was a bundle of fur and grime. “I heard her crying in a drainpipe after school and rescued her--that’s why I’m late, it took a while, sorry shifu--and I was wondering if you’d let me keep her here?”
“What makes you think I want a fleabag? You have a perfectly good home, take her there.” Judging by the kitten’s size, it was maybe three weeks old and incredibly weak, and Zhou Zishu had no particular desire to watch it die in his care.
“My aunt is allergic to cats. But if you let me keep her here, I promise to be the one taking care of her! I’ll feed her and change her litter and everything else!” Zhang Chengling stepped forward to emphasize the point, which jostled the kitten enough to make her cry out again.
Zhou Zishu wasn’t sure which of the two was more pitiful. But he did know which was more annoying in the moment, so he took the kitten from Zhang Chengling’s arms and walked to the kitchenette. Microwaved milk would have to do until he went to the store to buy formula.
“So she can stay here?” Zhang Chengling followed with too much of a bounce in his step. “Thank you, thank you!”
Wen Kexing joined them and wagged his finger at Zhang Chengling. “You’re making a big mistake, A-Cheng. You’re not prepared for the responsibility of a pet.”
“It’s just a cat,” Zhou Zishu argued. Now that Wen Kexing was against the cat, Zhou Zishu found her much more endearing. He set her on the table with a saucer of milk and handed Zhang Chengling some wet towels to clean her.
“When I was a child, I had a dog. He was the cutest thing I’d ever seen and I loved him with all my heart.”
Zhou Zishu narrowed his eyes at Wen Kexing. He never talked about his past. He claimed not to remember any of it.
“Yes, yes, A-Xu, I’m only remembering my dog now because of this dumb cat.” Wen Kexing waved Zhou Zishu’s stare and continued. “But then I lost my family and I was on my own in a very bad place. And in that bad place, there was nothing for me to eat. I had to kill Yi Guo to stay alive.”
Zhang Chengling stopped wiping the kitten to look at Wen Kexing with tears in his eyes. “Wen-shushu…”
“So you see,” Wen Kexing said. “You have to be careful what you care about.”
Bits of the story felt familiar to Zhou Zishu. “How old were you?”
“Five or six? I don’t know, I don’t have any of my memories,” Wen Kexing said.
“Yi Guo? A golden retriever?” Zhou Zishu remembered a tiny dog named Yi Guo who was mostly paws and ears. He had disappeared when Zhou Zishu was around seven.
It was Wen Kexing’s turn to narrow his eyes at Zhou Zishu. “Yes, he was.”
“I’m sorry he died that way,” Zhou Zishu said. It was tough to feel sorrow or sympathy, though, because joy and hope were blooming through his heart too quickly. “You got him from your shixiong, didn’t you?”
“What are you saying--”
“You’re Zhen Yan,” Zhou Zishu interrupted.
Between them, Zhang Chengling pet the kitten carefully and tried to disappear.
“The Zhen family stayed at the Manor for a year when I was a child,” Zhou Zishu explained. The grin on his face almost hurt but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Zhen Yan was my junior during that time and I gave him a dog named Yi Guo before he and his family left.”
Wen Kexing frowned and looked around the kitchenette. “I don’t remember any of--” And then he staggered, phasing slightly through the table.
“Wen-shushu!”
“Wen Kexing!” Zhou Zishu stood to catch him. His hands passed through cold air.
“I’m alright, A-Xu,” Wen Kexing said. He straightened up and looked at Zhou ZIshu with a wide smile. “You’re right. I was Zhen Yan, briefly of the Four Seasons Manor.” His eyes shone bright. “And I’m glad I got to reunite with my shixiong.”
The blooming joy in Zhou Zishu’s heart turned to a lump of dread. “Don’t you dare.”
Wen Kexing shrugged. “I don’t think I get a choice.”
And then he was gone.
Zhou Zishu stared at the empty space ahead of him. He had always wondered what happened to the Zhen family. They were kind. The mother taught him how to bind a sprained ankle. The father let him help with the false face. And Zhen Yan was his best friend.
Finally Zhang Chengling broke Zhou Zishu’s train of thought. “Shifu, are you okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Zhou Zishu said. He returned to his seat and stroked the kitten’s fur. “She needs to be fed several times a day. I’ll take care of the daytime feedings, but you’ll have to come by after school and before bed.”
Thankfully, Zhang Chengling knew a distraction when he saw it. “Yes, shifu. I’ll have my Aunt take me to the store tonight to get her supplies.”
“And don’t think this will get you out of training. I’m going to be twice as hard on you now that you’re a parent.”
“Yes, shifu.”
The phone rang, interrupting Zhang Chengling’s lesson. If Zhou Zishu had his way, he would have no phone, no way for anyone to contact him at all. But the utility companies preferred to have a landline number for him, so he kept it around.
He made his way to the office slowly. Teaching was more tiring than he remembered. But whoever was calling hadn’t hung up yet, which was even more surprising.
“What,” he said into the phone.
A young woman asked, “Is this the Four Seasons?”
“Four Seasons Manor, yes.”
Zhou Zishu had barely said anything when the girl shouted, “Holy shit!” and hung up. Kids were still dumb, apparently. He paid it no mind and returned to the main practice room to help Zhang Chengling with his footwork.
Chengling went home at sunset and Zhou Zishu went to the kitchenette to reheat leftovers. He would never admit it, but the Manor felt cavernous now that he was properly alone. The table was too big for him to eat at by himself, so he hovered over the counter instead. The kitten twined between his legs until he relented and picked her up.
It was good that his troublesome shidi had moved on. There was nothing for him to gain hanging around the world of the living, not with Zhou Zishu on his last legs. Now that he was gone, he could reincarnate and perhaps not die at thirty.
Zhou Zishu resolved to make a memorial tablet for him the next day and pile the altar high with walnuts.
There was a knock at the door. Zhang Chengling must have left something behind, though Zhou Zishu couldn’t imagine what was so important that he couldn’t wait until his next lesson.
The light scolding he had prepared for Chengling evaporated when he opened the door. Wen Kexing was there, at his door, leaning heavily on a cross-looking young woman. He looked terrible. His skin was pale and near-translucent, his hair was greasy and stuck to his forehead, and he reeked of stale sweat.
The odor more than anything else told Zhou Zishu that he was solid and real. Alive, somehow.
“A-Xu!” Wen Kexing dove into Zhou Zishu’s arms, knocking the kitten out of his arms and nearly knocking them both over. “I’m not dead!” The smell was horrible and the man was far too light for his frame.
The girl pulled him back before Zhou Zishu could throw him off or return the hug or process what was happening. “Master, what the fuck! You can’t tackle people in your state!”
“I’m perfectly fine now that I can see my A-Xu,” Wen Kexing said. He reached forward for Zhou Zishu’s hand.
“Who says I’m yours?” Before Wen Kexing could argue, Zhou Zishu gestured for the both of them to enter. “You can explain what happened over dinner. Chengling’s aunt sent over soup.”
Zhou Zishu barely paid attention to the story Wen Kexing and his servant-little-sister (Gu Xiang) told about the car accident and subsequent coma. Instead he helped Gu Xiang force more food upon Wen Kexing and counted how many rooms he would have to clear out before he could take live-in students.