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Xie Lian and Mantou both jumped at the unexpected voice, having been certain that there hadn’t been anyone else on the cart when they climbed on. Curious, Mantou clambered down from his perch on Xie Lian’s shoulder and peeked around the pile of hay to find a young man in robes as red as maple leaves, reclined against the soft hay. His daemon, a crow with glossy black feathers, was perched on the edge of the cart.
It had been the crow that had spoken, and her head cocked to look down at Mantou. “If everyone is equal, then why would there be gods?” she asked, and though she was looking at Mantou, Xie Lian knew that she was speaking to both of them.
Such things were not unheard-of, and not necessarily taboo, but they were unusual. However, Xie Lian wasn’t particularly upset by it, and neither was Mantou.
Mantou raised himself up on his hind legs to peer closer at the crow; she hopped down to land in front of him, her claws scraping against the wood as she bobbed her head, peering with first one eye, then the other at Mantou. “I suppose you are right,” Mantou said, and the crow clicked her beak.
Xie Lian returned to looking at the scroll and Mantou inspected the other daemon, who puffed her chest out, clearly pleased with the attention. “I am Mantou.”
“Mantou?” the crow daemon asked, sounding delighted. “Such a wonderful name. This one had been worried that daozhang-gege’s name would be poetry, like the old royals. She wouldn’t know what to do, meeting royalty!”
Mantou snorted. “We’re just humble scrap collectors,” he demurred. “There is no need for poetic or frivolous names. ‘Mantou’ suits me just fine.”
The young man kicked at the crow and she hopped away, pecking his boot. “Meaning no disrespect, daozhang-gege,” the crow daemon said. “This one is called Naili.”
“Naili,” Mantou echoed.
Xie Lian was curious despite himself. “Naili” was a perfectly normal name for a commoner, and yet it still seemed rather odd for the crow daemon of a young man that was probably the son of nobles or well-off merchants. Then again, “Mantou” was an odd thing to call a daemon, even one as odd as his daemon was; he supposed that even more so he had no place to comment on “odd” names. Still, it wasn’t his place—or Mantou’s—to ask, so they didn’t.
“A lovely name,” Mantou said and Naili’s glossy black feathers fluffed, pleased. She turned and clicked her beak at the young man, who stretched his foot out as if to kick her again. But she was out of his range, even if he pointed his feet, and she cawed rudely back at him.
Unable to help himself, Xie Lian smiled as he returned to his scroll. “Oh? How is the Water Master also the god of commerce?”
Naili cawed something rudely in the language of crows; the young man snorted derisively. “Traders ferry their goods by water,” he explained. “It’s faster that way, and they would make offerings for safe passage to the Water Tyrant.”
“Water Master,” Naili corrected and pecked at the youth’s boot. She didn’t seem particularly bothered, though; it was almost perfunctory.
The young man made a rude noise that Naili returned and Xie Lian had to hide another smile. Fortunately, the young man couldn’t see his face from around the piled hay, so he wouldn’t see Xie Lian’s amusement at their bickering.
“Why is he called the Water Tyrant?” Mantou asked, and the crow daemon turned back around to look at him.
She bowed her head, bringing herself closer to his level, and twisting her head to look at him with her left eye. “As he grew in power,” she said, as if confiding a great secret. “He became more demanding. Those ships that did not make offerings to him? He would sink them, or cause them to come to ruin. Travelers and merchants couldn’t afford such calamity to befall them, so they are always sure to make offerings to him for safe travels.”
Xie Lian frowned, but the youth said, “So, after he became the god of commerce, he also became a tyrant, wielding his power to gain more out of fear. Do you still say that all beings are equal? Or all gods?” the questions didn’t seem directed at Xie Lian, but he still considered them seriously.
Ultimately, he didn’t answer, rolling up the scroll. Instead, he said as casually as he could, “the young master knows much about the gods.”
The young man laughed; Naili cawed derisively. “This one just has a lot of time on his hands,” he said with the carefreeness of a young noble.
“There are many things to learn,” Naili said, bending to pick up a piece of straw in her beak. She tucked it back into the pile, cocking her head this way and that as if she were a true bird inspecting a nest. “Why should we let such opportunities pass us by?”
Xie Lian hummed thoughtfully. “If you know so much about the gods, do you know much about ghosts?”
The young man sat up and the crow daemon peered up at him. As if remembering something, she looked down and away and pecked at the straw again. Mantou picked up a piece of straw and stuck it back in the pile; Naili grabbed the end that stuck out and tucked it neatly into the pile, as if weaving it.
“Which ghosts?” the young man asked, moving to sit across the cart from Xie Lian.
Though he had gotten a good enough look at the young man earlier, he could more easily see him now. He wore fine clothing in bright red and cream, each color clear and crisp as if newly dyed. His boots were worn but in good condition as if recently made, and he looked quite like a young nobleman that had snuck away from his lessons.
Odd to find a young nobleman like him this far from any large city, and Xie Lian wondered if he was the son of a merchant instead of a noble. It was still odd, but not as odd as nobility; surely the narrow, pitted roads were ill suited to a traveling caravan, especially in the remote mountains where Puji Village and its neighbors were located.
Mantou thought the same, but said nothing, continuing his game with Naili. He would tuck errant strands of hay into the pile so that one end jutted out, and she would weave that end back into the pile.
Picking up a handful of pieces of hay, he offered it to Mantou, who ferried it between Xie Lian and Naili. “I have heard things about a certain ghost,” he said. “But I am not familiar with him. What do you know about the Crimson Rain Sought Flower, Hua Cheng?”
Naili croaked a laugh as she tucked another piece of hay into the pile. While Mantou fiddled with another piece, she began to weave errant strands over and around each other, as if building some kind of sculpture.
“We know about him. What do you want to know?” the young man asked, seeming to share Naili’s good humor.
Xie Lian thought. “I have heard about his deeds but nothing about his appearance. What does he look like?”
The youth leaned forward. “What do you think he looks like, daozhang-gege?”
Mantou paused, rearing up on his hand legs as he cocked his head thoughtfully. “They say that ghosts don’t have daemons,” he said. “So he probably won’t have a daemon. But then, crafting a spiritual device can almost be considered making a false daemon. Perhaps he has one such daemon?”
The thought of death no longer scared them, so instead of returning to Xie Lian’s side to be comforted—as many might, at the thought of being so permanently separated—Mantou offered another piece of hay to Naili.
“What do you think a daemon like that would look like?” Naili asked.
“There are stories of the armored bears of the north,” Xie Lian said, and Naili hopped as if surprised to be addressed directly. “They are sentient and intelligent, and capable of human speech, but they don’t have daemons as we know them. The armor they wear, which they hunt for, handle, and craft themselves, are the equivalent of their daemons, and are just as precious to them.”
Mantou chattered. “That doesn’t mean that a ghost’s crafted daemon needs to be an item, ” he argued. “There are many ways that life can be given to an inanimate object, and the seeming of life can surely be created. If a ghost is powerful enough, then surely a ghost’s daemon can look just like a living human’s?”
Smiling, Xie Lian picked at another piece of straw. “Very true,” he agreed. Looking across the cart, he found the youth smiling at him, listening politely to their discussion. “It would make sense that a ghost as powerful as Hua Cheng is reported to be could potentially have a creature that looks like a daemon.”
“Would that be so odd?” the young man wondered.
“I wouldn’t know,” Xie Lian replied. “Mantou and I are odd, by some definition, so who are we to judge what is strange and what is not?”
The young man smiled. “Daozhang-gege is surely wise,” he said. “And what does he think that Hua Cheng himself would look like?”
“Many immortals take the form of youth,” Mantou said, turning to look directly at the young man. He reared back slightly, as if surprised to be directly addressed. “So I would imagine that Hua Cheng would take the form of a young man like you.”
Naili croaked a laugh. She bounced and pecked at the young man’s boot again, dodging when he kicked at her. Croaking crow curses, she fluttered around before landing again. Her wings knocked free some of the hay, covering Mantou briefly in a shower of golden strands.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, bounding over to gently pick away the hay that covered Mantou. “This one apologizes, daozhang-gege!”
Mantou shook himself off. “It’s quite alright,” he assured her and grabbed a piece of hay to poke playfully at her breast. “It’s not like you can do it again!” He poked her one last time and leaped playfully into the pile of hay, where he disappeared.
Cawing and beating her wings, Naili seemed delighted and tried to chase after him, shoving her head into the straw. The young man looked pained and clicked his tongue as if in disappointment.
Ignoring the daemons, who chased each other through the straw, Xie Lian smiled at the young man. “Hua Cheng is surely a powerful ghost,” he said. “So it would stand to reason that he could have many forms. I would imagine that one as powerful as him would make it difficult to tell what he really looks like.”
For once, the confident expression on the young man’s face faded and he seemed incredibly disarmed. “Ah,” he said. “Daozhang-gege is surely wise. There are many stories of Hua Cheng’s appearance, that he is a young man, or a teenager, or a beautiful woman. However…” he held a hand over his right eye with a playful grin. “They say that in his true form, Hua Cheng is blind in his right eye.”
Naili hopped out of the pile of hay and clicked her beak at the young man. “Maybe his daemon pecked it out!” she exclaimed, as vibrant and excitable as a child’s daemon. “Maybe she got sick of him and—” she croaked as if choking on something and laughed when the young man kicked at her.
The young man, affecting a bored expression, waved his hand as if to dismiss her. Naili cackled before returning to her game with Mantou, making a mess of the neat pile of hay they sat among. “Many wonder why he’s missing an eye,” the young man said as if the exchange hadn’t happened, leaning close as if to whisper a secret. “Some say that in a fit of madness, he plucked it out of his own head!”
“I like my idea better,” Naili said, poking her head out of the pile of hay. “It’s more satisfying.” She clicked her beak and laughed when the young man glared at her.
Mantou also poked his head out of the hay and when he floundered a bit, Xie Lian reached out to pull him out. “It doesn’t have to be out of madness,” Mantou suggested. “Maybe it was a sacrifice!”
“Who sacrifices an eye ?” Naili asked. She whistled and clicked as she wiggled free on her own, showering Mantou and Xie Lian’s bag with bits of hay. “Have you heard of such a thing, daozhang-gege?” she asked, a little more politely.
Xie Lian made a show of thinking carefully as he struggled not to laugh. Though the young man seemed to be trying to act older and more dignified, his daemon gave away his youth. It was endearing.
“I suppose there are many strange choices to be made in the world,” he said. “I suppose the average person might not be asked to sacrifice something of themselves, so I suppose it wouldn’t be common to hear of it. However, I think that an eye is a good choice.”
Naili whistled and clicked her beak. “Why is that, daozhang?” she asked, hopping closer to stand just in front of Xie Lian. She hopped back when he leaned forward to place Mantou beside her and cackled a little laugh.
“Well, if you give a leg or a foot, then you cannot walk,” Xie Lian explained. “And maybe you can give an arm, but it will be harder to use tools or weapons, or go about your life. If you give an eye, you can still walk though you are blind on one side, and you can still use both hands. So, I suppose giving an eye is not a terrible choice.”
The young man was smiling when Xie Lian looked at him. “See, Naili?” he teased. “You don’t know everything .”
“Neither do you!” Naili retorted hotly and clicked her beak. She ruffled her feathers as if upset, but seemed more amused than anything.
Xie Lian hid a smile behind his sleeve. “Do you know if Hua Cheng has any weaknesses?” he asked. “I hear how strong he is, and I’ve heard amazing things about his prowess with words and swords, but I hear nothing of his weaknesses.”
“His ashes,” the young man said easily. “Gege must know the importance of a ghost’s ashes, yes? Anyone that holds his ashes has his support; destroy the ashes, destroy the ghost.”
“It’s like a ghost’s daemon,” Naili said, hopping around excitedly, at odds to her somber tone. “Their ashes, I mean. You hold their ashes, you hold their very being; of course they’ll obey.”
Xie Lian hummed. “It must be hidden very well, then.”
“Not necessarily,” Naili said.
A moment later, as if completing her thought, the young man said, “sometimes the ghost gives away their ashes willingly.”
“Like when he challenged the 33 gods?”
The young man clicked his tongue derisively. “He challenged 35,” he corrected. “But no, that was different.”
Naili bowed down to get closer to Mantou, as if whispering another secret. However, her voice was loud enough for Xie Lian to hear as well. “They say that there is a practice among ghosts,” she said. “Where if a ghost trusts in someone, he will entrust his ashes to that person.”
“Why would they give away their biggest weakness?” Xie Lian asked curiously. Mantou galloped back to him and he scooped his daemon up, running a finger down his spine while Mantou playfully nipped at his thumb.
Perhaps being around another daemon as young and energetic as Naili inspired this playfulness, and Xie Lian found himself smiling. Mantou was playful by nature, and certainly didn’t act their age, but there was always a weariness to him as much as there was to Xie Lian, himself. Daemons were perfect mirrors, after all.
But then, maybe Mantou simply didn’t have a reason to be so playful. No other daemon had wanted to come close, and even Fu Yao and Nan Feng’s daemons were as stiff and serious as their generals’ daemons. Besides, a god’s daemon was expected to be dignified in a way that Mantou simply did not want to be.
“Wouldn’t it be like giving away one’s daemon?” Xie Lian asked and Mantou nipped his finger again. Following his silent order, Xie Lian put Mantou down again and watched as Naili hopped closer.
She was too close to be polite, but Xie Lian and Mantou had long since stopped caring about propriety. Xie Lian watched her bob her head at Mantou, as if debating if she wanted to preen him, and then cocked her head to look up at Xie Lian as if she wanted to be held too.
Not for the first time, Xie Lian felt the itch to touch another person’s daemon. There are many types of daemons in the world, each beautiful in their own way. However, there were instances of daemons that were physically very beautiful.
For example, his fingers had itched to touch the clouded leopard daemon of Xuan Zhen Jiangjun, whose fur shimmered like finest silk, or the feathers of Nan Yang Zhen Jun’s eagle daemon, who looked like they were crafted from polished bronze and copper and gold. There was also the resplendent daemon of Jun Wu, the largest daemon he had ever seen—a dragon whose pale green scales were as beautiful as the finest, polished jade.
But he had also seen beautiful daemons in the mortal realm, as well. A woman with a wildcat daemon with fur that looked as soft as the clouds, lizard or bird daemons whose scales or feathers seemed to change color in the light. He’d even seen a horse daemon whose coat seemed to shine like finest silk, like burnished metal, whose body and long legs seemed as long and graceful as a dancer’s.
However, Naili’s feathers seemed different somehow. Her feathers were perfect and glossy, almost like polished glass. In the light of the afternoon sun, they shone deep blue and black.
He almost wanted to offer his hand to her, to let her climb into his hands so he could play with her as he played with Mantou. In his first settled form, Mantou used to perch on his shoulder and peck playfully at his ear and hair. Sometimes he’d preen Xie Lian’s sweaty hair after he had spent hours practicing sword forms or sparring with Mu Qing, warbling low in his throat. For the first time in a long time, Xie Lian missed that form, if only for the simple comfort of those touches.
But Mantou was Mantou, and Xie Lian was Xie Lian. As a stoat, tiny and unassuming, they were best suited and they were both happy with it.
Mantou peered up at Xie Lian and he smiled, reaching as if to grab at him again. “No!” Mantou cried playfully and scampered away. Naili looked back and forth between Xie Lian and Mantou before hopping after the other daemon; the youth looked troubled, but his expression cleared when he realized that Xie Lian was looking.
The young man smiled. “Ghosts give away their ashes to those they care about,” he explained. “To those that are precious to them. For ghosts, whose daemons have disappeared in a shower of gold upon their deaths, their ashes are like their daemons, and giving them away as they do is like touching your lover’s daemon in the mortal realm.”
Xie Lian flushed. Discussing such an intimate touch seemed terribly out of place for such a casual conversation, especially with someone as young as the youth across from him seemed to be. “Surely that opens up to such heartbreak,” he said, looking out over the swaying fields of rice. “How cruel would it be if upon receiving such a gift given out of love, they were instead destroyed?”
Naili cawed and hopped on the young man’s knee; for the first time since Xie Lian first saw them, the young man touched his daemon, running his fingers over the shining feathers of her wing. “I don’t know,” he said as Naili cawed and gurgled, bobbing her head at Mantou as if she was laughing. “I think that if I was the ghost, I wouldn’t care what they did with my ashes.”
Rearing back on his hind legs, Mantou looked at the two of them and then back at Xie Lian. A lifetime of memories passed between them. “I suppose so,” Xie Lian said faintly and Mantou wiggled on the bottom of the cart, forming a stoat-sized void in the hay.
Naili fluttered down and dropped a piece of hay on top of Mantou; moments later, they were playing again, running in and out of the messy pile of hay.
“We’ve been talking for some time,” Xie Lian said as the cart began turning off into the woods at the edge of the fields. “But I don’t know your name. You know Mantou, but my name is Xie Lian.”
Nairi cackled, clicking her beak. “This one is Naili,” she said proudly, puffing out her feathers. She playfully pecked at Mantou, who nimbly dodged her halfhearted jabs.
The young man smiled tightly, and clicked his tongue at his daemon. “We know,” he scolded. To Xie Lian, he said, “I am the third in my family, so everyone calls me San Lang.”
“Where is San Lang going?” Xie Lian asked. “Won’t your family miss you?”
A secretive smile crossed San Lang’s face. “We had an argument so I left,” he said, his tone so playfully distraught that Xie Lian had to hide a smile behind his sleeve. Mantou laughed out loud and climbed back on Xie Lian’s knee. “I was famished so I sat down to rest. I fell asleep on this cart and woke up to gege reading.”
“Shouldn’t you return home?” Xie Lian asked. “Won’t your family miss you?”
San Lang laughed. “Not really,” he said. “They’re used to me wandering off.”
Mantou nipped Xie Lian’s knuckle and tugged at his sleeve when he looked down. “Ah,” Xie Lian said, reaching into his sleeve. “Are you still hungry?”
“Not really,” San Lang said as Xie Lian pulled a bun from his sleeve. “What about gege?”
Xie Lian shook his head. “I’m not either,” he said. “So we can split it.” He broke the bun in half and handed one to San Lang. Tugging another piece of cloth from his sleeve, he broke the piece in his hands once more and placed it in the cloth.
As Xie Lian put the cloth-wrapped bun on the bottom of the cart, Mantou leaped down and began breaking pieces off with his clever little paws. “Here, Naili,” Mantou said as Xie Lian leaned back. “We can share.”
Naili hopped over, pausing to look at San Lang who was frowning. “Daemons don’t need to eat, gege,” the young man said with a pointed look at Naili.
“We don’t need to,” Mantou told San Lang who seemed surprised to be directly addressed. “But it’s fun—and it’s nice to share. Xie Lian and I are happy to share with Naili; there’s more than enough for all of us.”
Seemingly satisfied with the mess of white crumbs he’d made, Mantou picked up a piece and munched cheerfully on it. After a hesitant glance back at San Lang, Naili hopped closer and pecked at a piece.
It didn’t escape Xie Lian and Mantou’s notice that Naili was constantly looking back at San Lang as she ate, but they said nothing, content to watch the two.
They talked about lighter things, like Puji Shrine and San Lang’s travels, when the cart groaned to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Xie Lian asked and Mantou scrambled to the top of his head to peer over the piles of hay at the driver.
“I don’t know!” the driver exclaimed. “Old Huang! Go on now!”
Mantou reared up on his hind legs and peered further out. “Oh no,” he said. “Xie Lian, the ox won’t move!” Carefully, Xie Lian rose to his knees to peer around the piles of hay and Mantou crouched to dig his clever paws into the bamboo of Xie Lian’s hat to keep his balance. Sure enough, the ox had his head down and strained against his yoke as if wanting to twist away. He acted as if afraid of the road ahead and Xie Lian frowned.
The old driver’s daemon, a gold-colored hen, cried out and leapt toward the back of the cart as if trying to hide among the piles of hay. “Ghosts!” she cried. “Ghosts!”
Looking further down the road, Xie Lian saw green lights beginning to gather; from their light, a handful of figures were visible walking toward them while holding their heads in their hands.
“Protect!” Xie Lian hissed, and Ruoye leapt from his wrist to circle the cart.
As he did that, Mantou turned to look at San Lang, who was kneeling as well, Naili perched on his shoulder. “What day is it today?”
Naili clicked her beak but it was San Lang that said, “It’s Zhongyuan.”
Bad luck. If Mantou had been in his hands or on his shoulder, he would have nipped Xie Lian in rebuke, never mind that it had been the both of them that had forgotten to check the calendar. Bad luck, indeed.
“Stay close,” Xie Lian said as the old driver’s daemon kicked up hay as she tried to hide. “We’ve run into evil tonight, and if we go down the wrong path, we will never return.” That made the old driver’s hen daemon cluck loudly in fear, her wings flapping frantically.
He watched the figures walking toward them sway forward. Mantou jumped from his hat to the pile of hay. “Be silent ,” Mantou told the hen daemon firmly. But hens, even daemon hens, did not like the dark and the ghostly business of Zhongyuan terrified her even more so that she was nearly inconsolable. Only the old driver could calm her, and he was sitting, frozen in his seat with the reins hanging from limp fingers as he stared at the ghosts approaching them.
“They are approaching,” Xie Lian told the driver urgently, shuffling through the hay and disturbing the neat piles so he could reach the front of the cart. “We must not make a sound. As they approach, you must be silent, and so must your daemon.” He turned to look meaningfully at San Lang and Naili to find them calmly watching. San Lang smiled as easily as he had earlier and nodded to show that he understood Xie Lian’s instructions.
Naili clicked her beak and fluttered her wings. “Gege is strong,” she said. “And has powers. How amazing!”
“Not much of anything,” Xie Lian told him absently, watching the approach of the ghosts. “I only know a few tricks, enough to keep us safe for now. They won’t be able to see us now, but I don’t know if that will work when they get closer.”
Mantou bounded back toward Xie Lian. “Xie Lian,” he whispered urgently. “We need to do something. She will not be silent and will draw attention to everyone!”
The hen daemon was inconsolable, digging frantically at the hay to find a place to burrow herself safely; the old driver was similarly affected, his eyes wide with fear from seeing the glowing lights, and then Ruoye flying on its own, and then the headless forms walking toward them. Xie Lian and Mantou were well-accustomed to fear and bad luck, but he hated when others were punished for it. The old driver, his hen daemon, San Lang, and Naili were all in trouble and he wasn’t sure that he and Mantou could protect them.
Absently, Xie Lian picked up Mantou as they thought quickly.
“No,” the old driver wailed. Mantou watched San Lang frown as Xie Lian checked to see if the ghosts had heard them yet. “No, no, I don’t think I can! Daozhang, what should we do?”
Xie Lian made a face and Mantou leaped back toward the hen daemon. “I suppose there is no other way. I apologize in advance.” At the same time that he struck a point on the driver’s back, Mantou pounced on the hen daemon to touch the matching point on her body; both slumped over, deeply asleep.
Briskly, Xie Lian moved the driver to the back of the ox cart, careful to not treat him too roughly as Mantou struggled to tug the unconscious form of the hen daemon into a more comfortable and stable position on the pile of hay.
Done, Xie Lian climbed into the driver’s seat and was surprised when San Lang followed, sitting beside him. “Are you alright?” he asked.
Naili fluttered over, perching between them on the back of the seat. She clicked her beak and made a low, rasping laugh. “Of course,” she said.
At the same time, San Lang said, “Of course not. We’re scared.”
Mantou jumped from the hay to Xie Lian’s shoulder, slipping a bit and digging his claws into Xie Lian’s robes. Used to this, Xie Lian didn’t react and smiled at San Lang and Naili beside him. “It’s okay,” he said, even though neither San Lang nor Naili acted as if they were afraid. “Just stay close and stay quiet.”
He took the reins to urge the ox who continued to low and shake his head as if trying to break free of the yoke. Mantou leaped on his back and ran along his spine to perch behind his head. “Forward!” Mantou urged and bit at the ox’s ear.
The ox was afraid of what was ahead, but the sudden sting of sharp little teeth in his sensitive ear and combined with the flick of the reins against his back urged him forward. Ruoye moved with them as the headless ghosts approached. Though they couldn’t be seen, they could be felt, and though the headless ghosts complained that something was blocking the way, they ultimately continued their shuffling journey.
Above them, the sky was full of little ghost flares like fireflies, like stars in the sky. Mantou galloped back along the ox’s back to return to Xie Lian, who caught him and allowed him to perch on his shoulder like he was a bird daemon.
Mantou rested for a moment before climbing down the back of Xie Lian’s robe to get closer to Naili. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “As long as we’re quiet, we should be fine.”
Seemingly more amused than scared despite San Lang’s claim, Naili clicked her beak quietly. “If gege says so,” she said with a quiet, raspy little laugh. “Then it must be true.” Looking up, Mantou found that San Lang was looking at Xie Lian—or rather, at the black collar around his neck, which had become visible when the bandages covering it had shifted.
Curious.
Mantou turned and climbed back up to Xie Lian’s shoulder, blocking San Lang’s gaze with his own body; Xie Lian shifted the reins to one hand and used the other to move the bandages to try and cover the mark once more. It was no use and as soon as his hand moved away, they shifted again, but it was at least more covered than it had been. They just hoped that San Lang wouldn’t ask.
Suddenly, there was a shout behind them. “Ghosts have been killed! Who killed them?”
Alarmed, Xie Lian looked around and found that instead of ghost fires flying over and behind them, only fragments remained. Bad luck.
“We rode right into them,” Mantou whispered for Xie Lian’s ears only. “We need to go!”
Behind them, they heard the shuffling ghosts say, “we found something that we couldn’t pass! It must have been a priest or cultivator!”
With nothing ahead, the ox had resumed an easy pace. However, when he felt Mantou leap to his back and to his head, he stamped his feet nervously. Xie Lian flicked the reins as Mantou nipped at the ox’s ears again, hissing like a wild thing. “Go!” Xie Lian cried to the ox. To San Lang and Naili, he said, “hang on!”
The ox charged forward as the ghosts began to gather around. With the way closing, Xie Lian sent Ruoye to clear the way, and it whipped ghosts and ghost fires out of the way of the ox cart. Then it flew back to the ox and urged it on so that Mantou could gallop back to Xie Lian. They’d been run over by carts before, and have had all manner of things happen to Mantou; they would rather not repeat, if it could be avoided.
“Bad luck,” Mantou whispered to Xie Lian.
Reaching into his sleeves, Xie Lian threw a handful of talismans on the road behind them, activating them with a word. It would buy them some time—hopefully enough to allow them to decide which road to take at the fork ahead.
Sighing, Xie Lian yanked on the ox’s reins until he stopped. “If we choose the wrong path, then we are doomed,” he told San Lang as he dug in his bag for the fortune shaker he had acquired earlier in the day. “But I do not know the way to Puji Village, so we must leave it up to luck to decide.” He murmured to the fortune shaker, “By heaven’s official blessing, no paths are bound! Every road leads to heaven, may they all be walked! The first stick left, the second stick right, and we’ll go down the path with the best fortune.”
Mantou grunted when two sticks fell out and flipped them over. “Bad luck, bad luck,” he groaned. “Xie Lian, why is our luck always so terrible?”
Not sure whether to laugh or cry and thankful that neither Naili nor San Lang said anything, he said as he shook the fortune shaker, “Dear fortune shaker, why are you so heartless? Let’s try again; please give me some good fortune this time.”
Once more, two sticks fell out. One showed the worst of bad luck; when Mantou flipped over the other, they found that it was also the worst of bad luck.
“May I try?” San Lang asked and unable to see any reason to deny him, Xie Lian wordlessly held out the shaker. The fortune sticks that fell both showed fantastic luck.
“Which way shall we go?” Naili asked, hopping out of San Lang’s lap to stand with Mantou over the fortune sticks on the seat of the cart. “We didn’t get a clear answer.”
Urging the ox forward, Xie Lian said, “Since both fortunes showed the best of good luck, then it doesn’t matter and we can hope for the best.”
Mantou said, “Our friends, you have such great luck.”
“I think so, too,” San Lang said as Naili rasped a low crow’s laugh. “It has always been so.”
Any more discussion they may have had was stopped when shouting was heard behind them. “He’s here!”
Suddenly, they were surrounded by ghosts and he yanked the ox’s reins until they stopped, unable to move forward with the sea of angry ghosts stopping them. If it had only been a few then Xie Lian was confident in their abilities to disperse them, but there seemed to be hundreds of ghosts surrounding them with furious expressions.
Mantou hissed. “I can’t believe we still picked the wrong path.”
Patting Mantou, Xie Lian said to the ghosts around them, “It wasn’t our intention to disturb anyone. We pray that you will all show us mercy.”
“Mercy?” one of the ghosts demanded. There were so many that neither Xie Lian nor Mantou could tell which one spoke in the glowing host around them. “Why didn’t you show us mercy first? Weren’t you the one that dispersed a bunch of ghosts before we found you?”
Mantou nipped at Xie Lian’s fingers and he said as innocently as he could, “It wasn’t us. I’m just a lowly scrap collector.”
“Bah,” another ghost said. “I don’t believe you! What kind of scrap collector looks like you? You must surely be a cultivator! No one else would have done such a cruel thing!”
“A cultivator isn’t the only one that could disperse a ghost fire,” Xie Lian told them reasonably, as if they were discussing the weather. However, his and Mantou’s nerves were singing, and he struggled to not show their nervousness. They weren’t afraid of being hurt, of course, but they were afraid for the unconscious hen daemon and the old driver, and Naili and San Lang who sat quietly beside them.
The ghosts clamored. “Who else would it have been?” one cried louder than the rest. “Yeah!” another cried. A third asked, “are you saying that a ghost did it?”
Xie Lian placed his hands in his sleeves. “It’s not impossible,” he said as he reached for the talismans he had tucked in there.
Around them, the ghosts roared like the waves on the shore. “You really think that will save you?” one of the ghosts asked, stepping forward. “You—”
Suddenly, the roaring of the ghosts was silent. Xie Lian, facing the ghosts, didn’t know what had happened but Mantou, who was still sitting on the bench, saw San Lang and Naili shift. He saw their eyes change, light brown giving way to a shimmering orange, as San Lang lifted his head like a lord demanding respect.
Realizing that he was not meant to see such things, Mantou turned forward and watched the ghosts around them tremble.
“Oh?” Xie Lian asked, for the moment oblivious to what Mantou had just witnessed. “What about me?”
The now-silent ghosts looked terrified. Suddenly, the ghosts all disappeared as quickly as the sun and wind dispersed the morning mists of the mountains.
“What happened?” Xie Lian asked, looking around. Even the ghost fires had faded, leaving the forest lit only by the moon and stars overhead. The ghosts had seen something terrifying, but surely it had not been him or Mantou!
But they had all stared at him...or maybe something near him. Turning, he found that Naili had moved to perch on San Lang’s shoulder and was nipping at his ear and bangs. Seeing him looking, San Lang smiled. “Wow, gege is amazing! The ghosts were all terrified of you!”
“I don’t think I was that terrifying,” Xie Lian murmured and picked up Mantou who tugged on his hair. “But it seems that fortune was with us and we can move forward again.” he flicked the reins and the ox seemed to have been reassured by the lack of ghosts nearby and grunted as he began moving forward again.
“It wasn’t us,” Mantou whispered. He didn’t need Xie Lian’s lips to move to know that he said, I suspect it, too .
Not long afterwards, the trees gave way to fields and terraces, and Xie Lian could see the lights of the village ahead. “Ah, good fortune,” Xie Lian said. “Indeed, San Lang and Naili’s luck is truly wonderful. We have found our way back.”
They traveled in silence once more, and Mantou peeked at their friends beside them to find that San Lang was reclining as if entirely unbothered by what had just happened. Even Mantou and Xie Lian, who had been through so many similar trials over their long life, were still somewhat jittery from adrenaline. Yet, these two youngsters seemed perfectly at ease!
Realizing that he didn’t see Naili nearby, Mantou looked around before seeing a dark shadow against the stars. Looking up, he found Naili circling them, clicking her beak in what seemed to be a contented gesture.
Seeing him looking, Naili tipped her wings and fluttered to land on the bench between Xie Lian and San Lang. Xie Lian asked, “my friend, have you ever had your fortune told?”
San Lang peeked an eye open and both daemons turned to look at him. “No?” he asked.
“Would you like a session?”
Smiling, San Lang sat up. “Do you want to give me a session?”
Looking at his easy smile, and remembering the way that Naili had played with Mantou, Xie Lian found himself smiling back. “Yes,” he said. “How about palm reading?”
Xie Lian looked down at San Lang’s palms, at the perfectly-etched lines that looked just like a living human’s, and smiled. “You already knew that your luck is very good,” he said to San Lang and Naili, who cawed a laugh. “You are indeed blessed with great fortune. There are very few things that you will need to worry about. Your character is strong and you are stubborn, but when you run into obstacles, you are able to transform the bad to good.”
“Is that it?” San Lang asked.
“What else do you want to know about?” Xie Lian asked.
San Lang smiled impishly. “Romance. Isn’t that what everyone wants to know? Isn’t that what everyone who reads fortunes describes?”
“Of course you don’t have to worry about that,” Xie Lian told him, smiling. “You are handsome and intelligent and charismatic. I’m sure there are many that are interested in knowing San Lang and Naili.”
The young man’s smile grew and Naili cawed a laugh. “Gege,” he said. “We’re not interested in many ,” he said. “Just one. Just one is enough.”