Chapter 7

It had two floors and a courtyard.

Two paper money trees stood by the entrance, decorated with wishes for wealth. Fruit, pastries, and braised duck wings crowded the courtyard table.

It looked fancier than the apartment I rented in the living world.

Mom showed me around, complaining all the while.

“It’s nothing special. The courtyard’s a little small. And the light upstairs is only so-so.”

But her eyes shone. She kept touching her bracelet, then her new sofa.

The sofa was bright red, with peonies embroidered across the back. Exactly her taste.

I laughed. “Mom, your grin’s practically reaching your ears.”

She cleared her throat. “What do you know? I’m checking the after-sales service for you. The things you burned are decent quality. Though the paper television’s too blurry. It won’t pick up the living-world channels.”

I sat on the sofa.

“You can watch the evening news down here?”

“Of course,” she said, perfectly reasonably. “But watching it every day gets boring.”

I looked at her. “So you still want to play mahjong.”

Her eyes slid away. “I was only talking.”

She poured me tea. It had no taste in the dream, but it was warm.

Auntie Zhou, she told me, had been taken to the Penal Labor Bureau. On her very first day, she’d hidden a mahjong tile and been punished with three extra streets to sweep.

“She hid the one-bamboo tile under her shoe. It squeaked when she walked. A bailiff caught her red-handed.”

I pictured it and burst out laughing.

Mom grew more animated.

“Liu the Half-Immortal’s shop has been sealed too. They say half his goatee turned white overnight.”

“He wasn’t exactly young to start with.”

“True.” She brightened again. “They’ve ordered Zhou Guifen to return the money I lost in those eight rounds, too. From now on, I’ll only go to legitimate parlors. Cash only. No borrowing.”

I gave her a long-suffering look. “You’re still going to play?”

She touched her gold bracelet guiltily.

“What else am I supposed to do down here? Watch the evening news all day?”

I was torn between exasperation and laughter.

“Mom, you’ve only just escaped a loan shark’s trap.”

“Yes, yes.” She waved impatiently. “Less often. Small stakes. No all-nighters. No loans. Why are you managing me like I used to manage your teenage dating?”

“You managed my teenage dating?”

“By the time I wanted to, you weren’t dating anyone.”

I had no answer to that.

For once, the dream felt light.

I sat in the courtyard eating pastries with her. She gnawed a duck wing and passed judgment.

“The flavor’s right. Not quite spicy enough. Tell the shopkeeper to add more dried chilies next time.”

I nodded.

“The tangerines are fine too, but don’t get sour ones. I had one the other day that nearly puckered my soul.”

“You’re a ghost, and you’re still fussy.”

“Why shouldn’t ghosts be fussy? We have standards of taste too.”

I laughed until I shook.

Then, somehow, my eyes began to sting.

She’d been exactly like this when she was alive: always nagging, always finding fault, always refusing to admit she was wrong. In winter, I wasn’t wearing enough. In summer, I ate too much ice.

So many times, I’d found it irritating.

After she was gone, the silence in the house frightened me.

When she saw my red eyes, her expression softened at once.

“Why are you crying again?”

I shook my head. “I’m not.”

She put down the wing and moved closer.

“Wanwan, this gave you a fright, didn’t it?”

I lowered my head.

“A little. Mostly, I was angry. I burned that money so you could live a bit better down here. And you couldn’t even buy a bowl of wontons.”

Mom was quiet for a moment. Then she reached out and hugged me.

Her arms were cold and light, like a breeze.

“I’m all right now. You got me out.”

My nose stung fiercely.

She patted my back.

“Burn me less from now on. I mean it. The living have more expenses than ghosts do.”

“I know,” I said thickly.

Then her usual tone returned.

“And eat properly. Don’t just order takeaway to get through every meal. I saw the packaging on those duck wings you brought last time. If you’re buying some for me, get yourself a portion too.”

I stared. “You even check the packaging?”

“Of course.” She looked pleased with herself. “Your mother’s educated now. I can read receipts too.”

Before leaving, I reminded her, “No signing things at random. Don’t trust mutual aid associations. And don’t go clicking on underworld wealth-management offers.”

She looked impatient, but agreed to each point.

“I know.”

At the courtyard gate, I turned for one more look.

She stood in front of her little house, qipao neat, gold bracelet shining. So much better than the wretched figure those debt collectors had dragged around a few days earlier.

Suddenly, she called again.

“Wanwan.”

“Yes?”

Her eyes were red, though her words still came out as criticism.

“That offering tablet was well written. Especially the permanent ban on Zhou Guifen. I like that.”