Chapter 6

Liu the Half-Immortal didn’t escape either.

His joss-paper shop in the living world was sealed, and both realms blacklisted him. His sideline was over for good.

The judge also sent bailiffs to warn the Zhou family’s living household. If Zhou Qiang and Zhou Li kept using the dead as an excuse to extort money, their household’s blessings would suffer too.

The most exciting moment came when Mom’s account was credited.

A ghost-bank bailiff read out the figures in court.

“Chen Yulan. Original intercepted offering money: eighteen billion, eight hundred sixty-three million, two hundred thousand. Penalty interest and compensation, converted: two billion, seven hundred million…”

More strings of zeros followed. My head spun.

At first, Mom tried to keep her composure. By the end, she could barely control the corners of her mouth.

Attempting nonchalance, she asked the bailiff, “And, um, what about the money Zhou Guifen won off me in those eight rounds of mahjong?”

The judge leafed through the case file.

“To be returned in full.”

Mom perked up at once. If I hadn’t held her back, she’d have knocked her forehead against the courtroom floor in gratitude.

“An upright judge at last!”

He gave her a cold look.

“Chen Yulan.”

She straightened immediately. “Present.”

“There are lawful and unlawful mahjong parlors in the underworld. Ordinary recreation is no concern of mine. But if loan-sharking is involved again, I will show no leniency.”

She nodded with an awkward smile. “Understood. Only legitimate parlors from now on.”

I glared at her.

“And I’ll go less.”

I kept glaring.

Her voice shrank. “Only occasionally.”

The judge waved us away, and the court began to disperse.

While the bailiffs collected the files, Mom quietly tugged my hand. Hers was still cold, but much more solid than before.

Her eyes were red. Her mouth, as usual, refused to admit anything.

“What did you burn so much for? I’m not some spendthrift ghost.”

Looking at her torn qipao, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Buy yourself a house, Mom. A bracelet. Some pastries. Spend it however you like. Just stay away from loan-sharking mahjong parlors.”

She bristled. “Do you think I have no sense of limits?”

I looked at her.

Two guilty seconds passed.

“This time was an accident.”

I sighed.

“Don’t sign things at random. Don’t leave your thumbprint everywhere. Don’t trust mutual aid associations, special-rate loans, insider tips from your old friends, or investments guaranteed never to lose money. None of them.”

She pouted. “You think your mother’s an idiot?”

I said nothing.

Under my stare, her confidence wilted.

“All right, all right. I’ll remember.”

As the old keeper led me away, Mom stood in the courtroom doorway, waving.

Suddenly, she called, “Wanwan.”

I turned.

Her eyes were red, but she smiled.

“Burn me less from now on. Spend some on feeding yourself properly. I’ve got money now. I don’t need every last coin of yours.”

My nose stung.

“I know.”

Light flashed before my eyes. I woke at the altar.

Dawn was breaking, and incense still burned in the City God Temple.

The keeper handed me a cup of hot tea.

“It’s settled.”

I held the cup, my hands still trembling slightly.

“She really will be all right now?”

“The offering tablet has been re-established, and the underworld contract annulled. As long as you address your offerings correctly, no other ghost can collect them in her place.”

I thanked him.

Before leaving, I lit three more sticks of incense for the City God. This time, the smoke rose slowly and straight. At last, everything was as it should be.

The sun was just appearing when I returned to the cemetery.

I crouched at Mom’s grave and cleared away the old ash. Marks remained where the talisman had been stuck to the back of her headstone. I scrubbed them away bit by bit with a wet tissue, then set up a new offering tablet.

With a black pen, I solemnly wrote:

*For the exclusive receipt of Mrs. Chen Yulan. No ghost acquaintances may collect on her behalf.*

After a moment’s thought, I added a smaller line:

*Zhou Guifen in particular is permanently barred.*

Wind passed through the cemetery. Paper ash swirled around the headstone.

It felt like Mom was laughing.

I arranged the braised duck wings and peeled a tangerine.

“Now that you’ve got the money, don’t scrimp, Mom. Eat what you want. Buy what you need. Just play less mahjong.”

Another breeze came through. A piece of tangerine peel beside the offering plate gently flipped over.

I couldn’t help laughing.

“Pretending you didn’t hear won’t work.”

**9**

That night, Mom finally visited without crying.

She wore a brand-new dark green qipao, her hair neatly pinned up, and a gold bracelet made from a paper offering gleamed on her wrist.

She looked radiant—like the captain of an underworld square-dancing team.

Waving from the door of a small ghost house, she called, “Wanwan! Come and see my new home.”

I went over.