Chapter 10:
The Ghost in the Mirror (Part 3):
The Ghost Wants My Essence
A universal rule governed their profession: payment must be agreed upon before any work, big or small. Accepting payment allowed them to dispel misfortune for others without shortening their own lifespans. Daoists couldn’t accept overnight money; payment had to be received the same day, lest it transform into underworld currency, useless to the living.
Chen Henian held the mirror firmly, placing it in his small, apricot-colored suitcase in full view of the Wang family.
“That’s not acceptable, Little Master. You can have anything else, but that’s my father’s legacy!” Wang Sr. still protested.
Chen Henian replied, “Then have your father tell me himself.”
Wang Sr. was speechless, unsure how to respond. Wang’s wife intervened, her voice firm. “Since Little Master wants it, then it’s his!”
She glared at her husband. “At a time like this, you’re worried about possessions? I want to live!”
She glowered at the protesting men, silencing them.
Chen Henian left the old man’s bedroom, looking down a long corridor. “Is there a spare room? I’ll be staying here tonight.”
“Yes, the rooms on the first floor are all empty. Little Master, choose whichever you like.” Wang’s wife replied. The Wang family slept on the second floor, too afraid to venture downstairs at night. They didn’t want a repeat of their previous midnight bathroom trips, terrified by the dead.
“I want the room at the very end,” Chen Henian pointed to the end of the corridor.
Wang’s wife was relieved that he was staying, her face brightening. “Alright, I’ll get you a new mattress, a clean one.”
Chen Henian then asked, “Where’s your father’s body? Take me to it.”
“I will,” Wang Sr., his smile returning, said, “I’ll take you.”
“No rush.” Chen Henian glanced at the clock in the hall. “Lunch first. Bring the food to my room. Use disposable tableware.”
He turned and walked towards the room. Only after he entered did the three brothers speak.
Wang San, displeased by Chen Henian’s imperious manner, grumbled, “Are we going to wait on him hand and foot?”
Wang Sr. retorted, “Do we have a choice? We need his help.”
“What about the mirror?” Wang Er said angrily. “Are we really giving him our father’s belongings?”
“Of course not,” Wang Sr. whispered. “He hasn’t left yet. We’ll deal with it after he’s finished.”
The room Chen Henian chose was at the back of the villa, perpetually shaded and cold. He didn’t turn on the light, drawing the curtains tightly, and took out the mirror, placing it by the bed.
He ran his fingers across the surface, studying it. It was an old piece, the edges inlaid with runes. Mirrors could be vessels for ghosts, or, in the hands of powerful individuals, prisons.
Chen Henian suspected the latter. A ghost was trapped inside, trapped for many years. Its growing resentment had finally broken free.
It should be inside the mirror now. He casually walked past it, his reflection appearing, then his back, his tall figure filling the glass.
A faint figure appeared on the surface. Chen Henian didn’t turn, waiting. Wang’s wife knocked, bringing his food. The figure in the mirror vanished with the knock.
After eating, he asked Wang Sr. to take him to the body. Wang Sr. led him to the back door of the villa. “Little Master, this way.”
The old man’s corpse, aside from its nightly appearances, hadn’t caused any other disturbances. But on the third day, it had become impossibly heavy. It had taken several men until noon to move it back to the shed.
“Little Master, is there a way to lay my father to rest?” Wang Sr. felt uneasy in the shed, leading Chen Henian to the back of the storage room. The door was broken, revealing the coffin inside.
“Who made this coffin?” Chen Henian’s voice darkened as he examined it, his fingers tracing the edges.
“Is there something wrong with the coffin?” Wang Sr. asked. Chen Henian scoffed. “This is a fragrant cedar coffin, the most yin type, perfect for preserving a corpse. Didn’t you know?” He sniffed his fingers. “It’s also coated in black dog blood. Your father’s soul can’t be reincarnated in this coffin.”
“Ordinary people wouldn’t know to do this.” Chen Henian’s words were sharp.
Wang Sr.’s face paled, shock and confusion mixing. “Second Brother prepared this coffin! He… he…” He stammered, clearly bewildered.
Chen Henian didn’t have the patience for explanations. “In time, your father will become a vengeful ghost. He died an unnatural death. If you don’t want him seeking revenge, change this coffin.”
Wang Sr. panicked. “Change it, I’ll have it changed immediately!”
Chen Henian said, “Now, take the body out.”
“Take it out?” Wang Sr. hesitated, clearly lacking the courage. “Me?”
Chen Henian’s voice was cold. “He’s your father, what are you afraid of? I need to check if he’s turning into a jiangshi. Don’t waste time!”
Wang Sr. instantly regretted volunteering. He approached the coffin, his heart pounding as he looked at his father’s corpse.
The body looked the same as before burial, the skin pale, the eye sockets dark. It wasn’t decaying, but it carried the scent of old age and cedarwood.
Under Chen Henian’s watchful gaze, he reached into the coffin, gripping his father’s underarms, and lifted the upper body. His eyes were fixed on the corpse, and his worst fears were realized. The corpse gasped, its eyes snapping open.
But it wasn’t a peaceful resurrection. The corpse’s mouth gaped, its teeth reaching for his neck.
Wang Sr. recoiled in terror, falling to the ground.
“Are you trying to dismember your father?” Chen Henian commented.
“The body moved!” Wang Sr. gasped, his heart pounding. “It almost bit me! Didn’t you see? You almost got me killed!”
Chen Henian said, “You’re imagining things. The body didn’t move.”
Wang Sr., terrified, looked again. The corpse lay on the floor, eyes closed, motionless.
“As for who’s making you imagine things…” Chen Henian paused. He hadn’t put the mirror away. He walked over to the corpse, lifting its eyelids. The cloudy, gray eyes were lifeless. Just a corpse.
It hadn’t transformed yet. Then how did it get out of the coffin? Chen Henian hadn’t found the answer yet. He frowned, taking out a copper coin and tying it to the corpse’s forehead with red string.
“Leave the body as it is. Don’t touch it. With my charm, even the most resentful ghost will stay put. To be safe, scatter cooked glutinous rice at the doorways, don’t leave any gaps.” He finished his work, then, seeing Wang Sr. still sitting on the floor in shock, left without a word.
Chen Henian returned to his room, ate his dinner, and didn’t leave again.
The Wang family lingered in the hallway, trying to hear any sounds, but the room was silent. Wang’s son had recovered. Reassured by Chen Henian’s instructions, they returned to the second floor to rest.
Chen Henian lay in bed. The sheets were softer and more comfortable than his own. Zhou Xianzhi usually forbade him from staying overnight at clients’ houses. He assisted, but Zhou Xianzhi handled the dangerous ghosts alone.
This was the first time Chen Henian was working solo.
Eighteen, the perfect age for training. His master had said on his birthday that he expected Chen Henian to find work, but he hadn’t expected him to run off with the money.
The clock in the hall struck midnight.
Chen Henian’s breathing was even, the room dark, the mirror reflecting only shadows. They said mirrors shouldn’t face the bed while sleeping, their yin energy attracting evil. But Chen Henian had placed it right by his head.
As yin energy peaked, a face appeared on the mirror’s surface, growing larger. Hair emerged first, like a swarm of ants, flowing down the table. Then, fingers. The entire body emerged from the mirror, hovering over Chen Henian’s bed.
Its hair was long, but the figure was male. It floated down to his face, its hair wrapping around his waist.
It exhaled a chilling breath. Before it reached his face, Chen Henian’s eyes snapped open. He sat up, looking directly at the ghost.
“You’re out. Good evening.”
He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, his onyx eyes gleaming, a smile playing on his lips.
The ghost wasn’t as grotesque as he had imagined. It had a human face, even handsome, wearing ancient opera attire, traces of red makeup on its eyes and lips, its smile stretching unnaturally wide.
“Come closer then, and take a better sniff,” Chen Henian leaned back against the headboard, beckoning the ghost.
The ghost, now fully formed, climbed onto the bed. Chen Henian asked casually, “Do you want to eat me? If so, go ahead.”
The ghost looked at him with amusement, perhaps thinking him a fool, or perhaps assessing him. It smiled wickedly, sighing. “Little Master, you say that, and now I can’t bear to.”
“What should I do?” It continued, its voice turning sharp, its eyes glowing red, its true form revealed – rotting flesh and oozing sores.
“Should I eat the flesh first, or peel the skin?”
Chen Henian smiled, asking, “Where do you want to start biting?” He pulled his collar open, exposing his neck and collarbone, his eyes fixed on the ghost.
The ghost smiled, leaning in, inhaling Chen Henian’s scent, intoxicating like a drug.
“How about I taste your essence first?”
The hair around his waist tightened, leaving red marks on his skin. The ghost reached for his clothes, as if to undress him.
Chen Henian knew what he represented to a ghost: a delicacy, a succulent meal. His blood, his scent, was addictive to these creatures, driving them to madness.
Disgusting.
His expression changed.
Lost in Chen Henian’s scent, the ghost’s face was close to his neck, its tongue extending. But before it could taste him, Chen Henian’s hand shot out, grabbing its neck, flipping it onto the bed.
“You—!” The ghost’s expression contorted, its body attempting to turn into mist, but failing, trapped in Chen Henian’s grip. The veins on its forehead bulged like worms, its lustful expression turning to rage.
“How can you hold me?” The ghost’s voice was strained. “You’re just a minor practitioner, how can you—!”
Chen Henian raised his other hand, slapping the ghost hard across the face.
The ghost was stunned.
Chen Henian spoke calmly, “Let go of my hair.”
His smile was gone, his face expressionless, his eyes like deep pools.
The slap had stung, a burning sensation replacing the numbness.
Chen Henian raised his hand again. “Let go.”
The ghost finally moved, its teeth grinding, the scars on its face throbbing, its hair slowly releasing Chen Henian.
Chen Henian’s grip tightened. His voice was steady, fearless. “Coated in incense ash and deep-fried, or distilled into wine, which do you prefer?”
