Chapter 4

“Zhou Guifen…”

I barely forced out her name before the icy weight on my chest grew heavier.

She bent over me, her eyes cold.

“The living should mind the living, young lady. The dead have their own rules.”

She pressed the mahjong tile to my forehead. Cold pierced to the bone.

“Your final deadline.”

I jerked awake.

It was still dark. I touched my forehead. Nothing.

For the next several days, the house gave me no peace.

The tap turned itself on at midnight. A mahjong tile appeared on the kitchen chopping board. I threw it away; the next day, it was in my handbag.

By day, I ran between the cemetery and Master Qin. At night, I lay paralyzed in bed. Whenever I woke, a cold mark circled my neck, as though icy fingers had gripped it.

Worst of all were Mom’s visits.

She grew weaker each time. Her qipao hung in tatters, and her wrists looked rope-burned.

Yet she still tried to reassure me.

“I’m fine. The food down here’s terrible, that’s all. My soul’s lost a little weight.”

My nose stung. “You’re a ghost, Mom. How can you lose weight?”

She rubbed her face guiltily. “Soul weight.”

Master Qin looked grim after examining the ghostly energy around my neck.

“Zhou Guifen has an underworld contract. Ordinary rites can hold her off for a while, but they won’t solve the problem.”

“Then what do I do?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Go to the City God Temple. Find the elderly temple keeper. File a petition across the boundary between life and death, and ask the underworld judge to hear it.”

That night, I took Mom’s old clothes to the temple at the far end of the old street.

No one was about. Streetlights fell across red walls and gray tiles, making the building look ancient.

The elderly keeper was sweeping incense ash when I arrived. His hair was white and his back slightly bent, but his movements were steady.

Before I could speak, he looked up.

“Here to seek justice for the dead?”

I stopped.

He leaned his broom against the wall. “You’re carrying heavy yin energy and a dead person’s clothes. Either you’re summoning a soul or seeking justice.”

He led me into a side hall. The City God’s statue watched sternly over flickering candles.

I laid the yellow talisman, videos, photographs of the tracking codes, and Master Qin’s explanation on the table.

After examining them, the keeper asked, “Have you thought this through? When an underworld court convenes, the living bear karmic consequences too.”

“What consequences?”

“If the evidence is insufficient, you may damage the deceased’s spiritual merit instead. If the other party turns the accusation against you, you’ll be implicated as well.”

I was silent for a few seconds.

I saw Mom again: terrified, yet telling me not to worry about her.

I rested my hand on her floral blouse.

“I’m not afraid of consequences. I’m afraid they’ll really take my mother away.”

He studied me for a long time, then nodded.

“Write the petition.”

He brought out yellow paper and a cinnabar brush.

“If you don’t know how, I’ll dictate.”

I knelt at the table and carefully wrote each line.

*The offerings of my late mother, Chen Yulan, have been appropriated.*

*Ghost money has been intercepted.*

*The underworld contract is suspected of forgery.*

*I petition the underworld authorities to investigate, return the offerings, and annul the fraudulent contract.*

My hand shook badly when I reached the petitioner’s name.

At last, I wrote my own.

Xu Wanwan.

The instant I finished, steam rose from the cup of soy milk before the altar. It had been stone cold.

“She knows,” the keeper said.

I bowed my head, my nose stinging.

“Wait for me, Mom.”

This time, I wasn’t burning more money.

I was taking her case to court.

**7**

Before the midnight hour, the keeper set up an altar behind the temple.

Three incense sticks burned upright, but their smoke sank into the cracks between the floor tiles.

He gave me a red cord to wind around my wrist.

“Whatever you see, don’t wander off. Don’t answer carelessly, either. Especially if someone calls your full name.”

As midnight struck, the lights in the City God’s hall went out.

A pale gray shadow slowly formed on the floor, shaped like a doorway.

The keeper lifted a lantern and went first.

“Stay close.”

Holding Mom’s clothes, I stepped through.

When I opened my eyes again, I stood in a cold, gloomy courtroom.

The judge was pale and beardless, his expression stern. Ghost bailiffs flanked him with chains in their hands, their iron armor glinting coldly.

My knees nearly gave way.

Then they brought Mom in.

At the sight of me, her first response wasn’t to cry. It was to mutter a curse.

“You actually came down here? You’ve got more nerve than I did when I used to dodge fares!”

I was so tense I could barely breathe. Her remark nearly made me laugh.

Auntie Zhou was brought in too, neatly dressed, clutching the black-bordered contract.

The moment she entered, she knelt before the judge.