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There was once a boy ghost in the darkest place in the world, who found a small human girl and decided to keep her.
“A-Xiang, come here,” Wen Kexing called, but A-Xiang was busy observing cockroaches shimmying in and out of cracks in the rocky wall and she either couldn’t hear him or didn’t feel any urge to respond. “A-Xiang!” he snapped.
This time, she heard the command in his voice and jumped to her feet, trotting up to him. The brown tunic she wore was ill-fitting, because it had belonged to Wen Kexing when he’d been a little older than her and the sewing he’d done to fix it for her smaller frame was amateurish at best. Silvery threads of cobwebs clung to one of her sleeves and there was dirt smeared on her chin—she must have been crawling somewhere again, chasing for food crumbs or whatever colorful trinkets the other ghosts carelessly dropped. She was the picture of an unruly, dirty child, so this made the hairpin that was planted in her braid stand out all the more.
“Who gave you this?” he asked, pushing her chin so she would turn her head and let him examine the hairpin.
It was lovely, with pearl shells in the shape of cherry blossoms and golden tassels that ended with more pearl blossoms. Wen Kexing didn’t have anything so beautiful to give her, so someone else had, and the thought of what one of the ghosts might want from a six-year-old girl in exchange for a shiny gift made his stomach roil.
“Tell me, naughty girl,” he insisted, tugging on one of her braids.
“It’s Aunt Luo!” she said, wincing and scowling when he let go of her braid. “Aunt Luo gave me the hairpin because I helped her tidy her robes! She said I was very good and very tidy and I helped her a lot. Don’t take it!”
A cool wave of relief washed over Wen Kexing. “All right,” he said, softening. “It’s fine if it’s Aunt Luo but don’t ever accept gifts from any of the other ghosts. You hear me? Don’t do them any favors. If they ask you to do something for them, you say you can’t because I would kill you if you served anyone else. Do you hear me, A-Xiang?”
“Yes, master,” she said and traced a half-circle with the tip of her foot, her small mouth pouting. She liked food and shiny things much more than Wen Kexing could provide, so it must grieve her to agree.
“You better remember it,” he said, then took her hand. “Come on, it’s time for dinner.”
To get to their room, they had to cross the great hall and it was always somewhat of an adventure. The end of the day found a lot of the ghosts bored and more dangerous for it. Life at Ghost Valley was both dull and always on the verge of tipping into mayhem and murder. Wen Kexing held onto A-Xiang’s hand and darted looks around, trying to keep his eyes on everyone who crossed their paths, especially the ones he might have angered recently. When A-Xiang was much smaller, it had happened more than once that a ghost had tried to kill her in petty retaliation for something he’d done, so he had to be careful at all times.
When he felt her little hand, sticky with something she’d touched, slip out of his grip, his heart leaped in his chest. A-Xiang darted, reaching for something she’d seen on the floor.
“A-Xiang, come back here!” he barked.
But too late—with her eyes on whatever prize had caught her attention, she hadn’t noticed that she was stepping in the way of a tall figure in dark robes. Wen Kexing surged forward, but not fast enough to stop the foot that kicked A-Xiang in the ribs. Some qi must have gone into it because the kick threw A-Xiang against the wall, her head hitting the rock with a heart-stopping thud. Wen Kexing hurried to her side and helped her sit up, running a hand against the back of her head to feel for a bump or the stickiness of blood. Fortunately, he couldn’t feel anything but he kept his hand there, cradling her head soothingly.
A-Xiang’s little face crumpled. “Don’t cry,” Wen Kexing told her warningly, though in a low-pitched voice. “They’ll get meaner if you cry.” With a visible effort, she swallowed back her tears and gave him a wobbly smile. “Good girl, A-Xiang.”
“You should keep your little pet on a tighter leash,” a voice said snidely behind Wen Kexing’s back. “If she’s always underfoot, someone might step on her.”
Wen Kexing petted A-Xiang’s hair—on the back of her head, where no one would see what his hand was doing—and then stood up, turning around slowly to give himself time to piece his mask together. It tasted sour in his mouth, like bile. The smile that stretched his lips felt like a slashing wound. The ghost that had kicked A-Xiang was long and thin, his robes dark as the heart of night, his eyes circled with black. He was Unlucky Ghost, one of the Ten Devils, though a recent addition whose first action when he’d entered the Valley had been to kill one of the Devils and promptly take his place. Wen Kexing already hated him for infringing on his revenge.
“My apologies,” Wen Kexing said in his sweetest voice, stepping up to Unlucky Ghost. He joined his hands and bowed deeply, while at the same time his fingers reached for the blade he kept in his left sleeve. “My servant was careless and will get a whipping for it, but it was my own fault for not keeping her in check.”
He couldn’t see Unlucky Ghost’s face, but he could hear the smugness in his voice. “I can be indulgent once. But if it happens again, I will bash her little head on the wall until her brain turns into soup.”
“Please discipline my servant if she fails again. I will be most grateful in return,” Wen Kexing said, then pulled his blade out and stabbed down in a flash. Blood gushed on his fingers when he yanked the knife out. Unlucky Ghost yowled in pain and collapsed, folding over on himself. Wen Kexing glanced at A-Xiang and jerked his chin. Getting his message immediately, she dashed away and around the legs of the ghosts who’d been drawn by the screams and were coming to see what the fuss was about.
“I will kill you!” Unlucky Ghost roared, clenching his wound, red seeping between his fingers. “I will rip you apart for this!”
“My apologies again,” Wen Kexing said cheerfully as he wiped his blade on his sleeve. “I was aiming a little higher, for that little thing between your legs that you probably don’t use for much. How inaccurate of me. I would have relieved you of an inconvenience to show you my gratitude.”
Unlucky Ghost spluttered, looked around for support and saw that the crowd of ghosts that had gathered to enjoy the spectacle were openly laughing at him. “Ha! You really are new, Unlucky Ghost, for letting that little lunatic get you!” one of them crowed. “His smiles are sweet but his claws are sharp! You should never let him come close.”
Unlucky Ghost’s face turned crimson with anger, but before he could reply, the ghosts parted in front of a newcomer. In all of Ghost Valley, there was only one person the other ghosts would do that for.
“What’s going on?” asked the Ghost Valley Master.
“He stabbed me!” Unlucky Ghost yelled, pointing a blood-stained finger at Wen Kexing. “That brat stabbed me in the leg!”
“Did you, now?” the Master asked, turning to Wen Kexing.
Wen Kexing bowed his head. “I did, yes. He kicked my servant. She’s mine to discipline.”
“I will beat him bloody! Hand him to me, Master, and I will—”
“Silence!” the Master barked. “If you want revenge, do it yourself. You let the boy stab you, so you deserve worse than this little pain to cure you from your carelessness. I don’t want to hear you yapping anymore. Get out of my sight!”
Unlucky Ghost’s mouth opened, but he was smart enough to close it before he could say something really unlucky. No one helped him as he painfully hoisted himself to his feet and limped away, with jeering and sneering in his wake. He would be another ghost to be wary of, but Wen Kexing already slept with one eye open anyway. Unlucky Ghost would better watch his back too.
“Your temper is as sharp as ever,” the Master told him, indulgently amused, because he was the only one in Ghost Valley who had nothing to fear from Wen Kexing—or at least he thought so.
“It is a blade that I hone every day,” Wen Kexing said, keeping his eyes down but making his tone light. The Master liked a little cheekiness from him, but not too much. Let him think of Wen Kexing’s temper as a joke shared between them. Let him keep his guard low until—until—
“If it’s too sharp, you will cut yourself with it.” A heavy hand covered Wen Kexing’s bowed neck, curling possessively around the nape. A growth spurt had hit him recently but the Master could still tower over him. “I don’t see the little girl anywhere,” the Master said.
In the few years since A-Xiang had been kidnapped and brought here, the Master had only seen her a handful of times. Wen Kexing did his best to keep her away from his greedy eyes. “She’s back to our room. I’ll punish her later for misbehaving,” he said.
“Good. Before that, you should come with me. I will put that smart mouth of yours to better use.”
The innuendo made the ghosts laugh and then they scattered, content with the evening’s entertainment. All of Wen Kexing’s muscles locked at the same time, but to shield himself rather than in anticipation of a fight. The fight would come later, when A-Xiang wasn’t so little, when himself was strong enough to see it to the end. The Master kept his hand on Wen Kexing’s neck like a shackle as he led him away, fingernails digging into the skin, while some ghosts made wedding night’s jokes.
“Keep the blades out of your bride’s reach!” Raucous laughter rumbled across the great hall.
Let them laugh. One day, the joke would be on them.
—-
Wen Kexing found A-Xiang later, obediently waiting for him in their room. He made her herb soup without meat and they ate together, sitting on the colorful cushions he’d stolen to cover the cold floor, in the quiet space of their narrow room that was filled with their beddings, clothes, cooking utensils and Wen Kexing’s books. He’d started teaching A-Xiang how to read, but she had no patience for it and would quickly grow bored of the lessons, squirming out of his lap to find something to play with.
She scraped the last fragments of lotus seeds from her bowl and then licked it clean, which Wen Kexing scolded her for as he wiped her dripping chin. When she tried to wriggle away from his reach, he saw her wince—a real wince of pain, not the exaggerated one she did when she wanted to get out of trouble from him.
“A-Xiang? Are you hurting? Is it where Unlucky Ghost hit you?” Cursing himself for not checking sooner, he opened her tunic to examine her chest. “Let me see. Stop moving.”
An ugly purple bruise spanned across her left side, as large as Wen Kexing’s whole hand. Carefully, he palpated it as A-Xiang hissed in pain, but thankfully none of her ribs felt broken. He sent gentle qi to check for internal damage, but there wasn’t any either. It was just a bad bruise, but it would take a while to heal and it was the side A-Xiang slept on. Wen Kexing should have chopped off Unlucky Ghost’s dick and made him choke on it.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?” he asked after applying ointment on the bruise.
“I didn’t cry,” she said. “I’m not crying!”
“A-Xiang—”
“Good girl?” she asked hopefully.
He sighed, defeated, and stroked her hair when she leaned eagerly for it. “Yes, A-Xiang is a very good girl.”
A-Xiang was a handful, always slipping out of his hold, always running ahead and getting in trouble. But she also took everything he said to heart. Each of his words, even the careless ones, made an impact on her, good or bad. With a scoop of fresh fear, he realized in an instant the immense power he had on that young impressionable mind. He was the clumsy artisan in the building of a person and there was no one else to fix his mistakes. She’d had parents once, maybe still had them if they hadn’t been killed, but whether they resided in the netherworld or in the mortal world, they were completely lost to A-Xiang. She was Wen Kexing’s, his to make or unmake. What if he failed? He had to make her strong enough to survive in Ghost Valley, because there was always the possibility that he would get killed and leave her there all alone, but what if in doing so he made her unfit for the human world? He’d always planned to release her in it one day, ever since he’d fed her that scalding porridge.
“If you’re hurt, you have to tell me,” he said. “In front of the others, you don’t cry, you don’t show them you’re hurting, but you always tell me.”
“All right,” she said, nodding vigorously. “Tell me a story!”
“Only one,” he said, knowing he would end up telling her as many stories as she wanted.
She squealed and threw herself at him. She’d gotten a lot bigger lately and her weight hit him right in the ribs, kicking the breath out of him. “Ugh, A-Xiang, be careful! You’ll topple your poor master.” He arranged her on his lap and cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”
“Yes!”
“There was once a boy ghost in the darkest place in the world, who found a small human girl and decided to keep her.”
Knowing that he meant her, A-Xiang bounced excitedly on his lap. “A good girl!”
“She was a stinky little girl and she rarely did what the boy told her to do,” Wen Kexing said sententiously. He would have tickled her side but was afraid that he would aggravate her injury if he did. “The boy ghost and the little girl were often bullied by the other ghosts in the dark place, but no matter how much they hurt now, they knew that the day would come when the bad ghosts would be the one hurting. They would stab Jumping Ghost in the throat, they would strangle Hanging Ghost to death—” That part of the story varied depending on who had wronged them the most recently, so today he added for A-Xiang, “—they would cut Unlucky Ghost’s foot, so he couldn’t kick anything ever again—”
He continued on that note for a few more names, until A-Xiang fell asleep against his chest, nestled in the crook of his elbow and lulled to sleep by his litany of murder. She breathed in soft little puffs and he rested his chin on top of her head, curling around her. He thought of the Ghost Valley Master’s hands under his clothes, on his skin, of him inside. For his own benefit, he ended the list in a dark murmur, “—and then they would capture the Valley Master himself and they would skin him alive.”