Prologue

Time moved faster than I had imagined.

When Black Robe Number Six — who spoke in a soft, gentle voice, like a small child — sat down in front of me, I suddenly realized that tonight was already the sixth night.

The atmosphere in the tent felt a little different. Everyone seemed keyed up, excited and quietly anticipating something.

Even Ao Chi had become ever so slightly tense. He had just whispered to me: “Tomorrow it’s your turn!”

“So what?”

“What if that queen is real…”

“Then we’ll be rich! The City of Gold!”

“And if we disappear?”

“With you to take the fall for me, what do I have to worry about?”

“A woman’s heart is the cruelest thing!”

“I don’t mind.”

Over to one side, Black Robe Number Six gave a soft little cough and said, with some uncertainty: “Well, this story — I also found it in an old, out-of-print magazine. If I don’t tell it well, please bear with me.”

“Don’t worry,” I said cheerfully, with entirely bad intentions. “If you don’t tell it well, we’ll all go dig coal underground for the queen together!”

“Please don’t frighten me,” said Six, looking a little aggrieved. Then, in a voice no louder than a mosquito’s hum, she began: “There was a girl named Ning Xiaoqian…”

1

A year ago, Nie Caichen said to his wife Ning Xiaoqian: I’m a grown man, after all — can’t you get me a lunch box that’s a little less cartoonish? Ning Xiaoqian said: Fine, I’ll change it. But this one keeps the food warm.

A month ago, Nie Caichen said to his wife Ning Xiaoqian: Can you stop making me wear so many layers? I’ve told you I’m not cold. Ning Xiaoqian said: Fine, I won’t. But you’ll catch a cold.

Ten days ago, Nie Caichen said to his wife Ning Xiaoqian: You should spend your time on something worthwhile. Following other people’s lead and learning embroidery and sewing all day — what a waste of time. Ning Xiaoqian said: Fine. I’ll stop once I finish this cushion. You can tie the cushion to your chair — that way your neck won’t ache so much.

Three days ago, Nie Caichen said to his wife Ning Xiaoqian: Open your eyes and look at me. Say something to me. But this time, Ning Xiaoqian did not answer.

When the doctor announced that Ning Xiaoqian had died suddenly of a heart attack, Nie Caichen looked at the doctor’s expressionless face and said, with a conviction bordering on stubbornness: My wife has her check-up every year on schedule. Everything has always been perfectly normal. How could she possibly be dead?

The doctor shook his head and walked away.

Three days later, Ning Xiaoqian’s funeral was held quietly. Apart from her parents and a few old classmates who had traveled from a city far away, there was no one else.

Nie Caichen and Ning Xiaoqian had been in this city for three years already — and yet, to this thriving city, they were still strangers, even though they already had a home here.

A year ago, Nie Caichen and Ning Xiaoqian had purchased Unit A on the ninth floor of Anju Gardens at an almost unbelievably low price. The reason for the low price had spread through the neighborhood in all manner of rumors — the gist of it being that many years ago, a woman had died an unnatural death here, after which the longtime residents had all felt uneasy staying on. Those who could sell had sold; those who could rent had rented out.

On the eve of paying the down payment, Nie Caichen had asked Ning Xiaoqian in all seriousness: Are you afraid? Ning Xiaoqian had looped her arm through his, tilted her head back, and laughed three great exaggerated laughs at the sky, then declared: I am the reincarnation of the most mischievous and cheerful ghost there ever was — with me here, what ghost or demon would dare show its face? Besides, with names like ours, living in a place with this kind of reputation is actually far more fitting!

Nie Caichen had laughed too. Four years ago, he had still been a middle-school Chinese literature teacher in a small city. That summer, the department had taken in several teaching interns from a teachers’ college, and one of them was Ning Xiaoqian. The moment they exchanged names, their destinies were bound together.

Nie Caichen. Ning Xiaoqian. Swap a single surname between these two names, and you have the most celebrated legend of all time — A Chinese Ghost Story. What kind of fate must it have taken to bring about such a coincidence? Everyone around them marveled at it. Enthusiastic well-wishers even urged them to make good on their names and become a perfectly matched couple without delay — especially since Nie Caichen was refined and handsome, and Ning Xiaoqian was charming and lovely. From any angle, they looked made for each other.

Perhaps it was a closeness written into their very names, or perhaps it was an inexplicable and immediate warmth — whatever the reason, their love arrived in the swiftest and most ordinary way possible: at first sight.

A couple playing the roles of the protagonists from A Chinese Ghost Story, moving into a building with a reputation for misfortune — it had something of a darkly comic quality to it.

He remembered the day they stood in the empty living room of their new home, new keys in hand. Ning Xiaoqian had run to the window and swept the dusty curtains aside with a flourish. Sunlight poured through the glass and gilded the entire floor in gold. Ning Xiaoqian took Nie Caichen’s hand, pointed at the light, and declared: Sunlight for miles and miles, the air is fresh and clear — this is our home now!

With sunlight like that, with a smile like Ning Xiaoqian’s, with happiness so full it filled the room — all of it convinced Nie Caichen that this so-called haunted building was nothing but idle nonsense.

As they set about making the home their own, Ning Xiaoqian’s favorite thing to say was: Love conquers all. She even wrote this motto of hers on a hat she had folded from newspaper and wore it cheerfully while sweeping down cobwebs from the ceiling. Nie Caichen, meanwhile, was painting the walls and laughing at her for being some strange hybrid of childishness and romantic melodrama.

Those two, amid all of this, were building their home piece by piece.

Today was Monday. Nie Caichen lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The company had granted him a week’s bereavement leave; today he was supposed to return. The alarm clock by the bed had been ringing for a long time.

From the day of the funeral until now, seven days had felt like seven years — and also like seven seconds. So fast that his body had lost all sense of hunger and fatigue. It was as if he had simply woken from one long sleep.

Nie Caichen got up, pushed aside the duvet printed with a pattern of three little pigs, and sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his bloodshot eyes with his hands.

“Stop rubbing your eyes — you’ll get wrinkles!”

Nie Caichen went still. Through his blurred vision, he saw a familiar shadow flicker in front of him.

“My darling!” he called out — and out of habit, reached forward to catch hold of that figure’s arm.

In the old days, Ning Xiaoqian would always get up half an hour before the alarm went off, make breakfast, and then come back to the bedside and grab his arm — pulling him out of bed the way you’d pull a carrot from the earth. Nie Caichen always played along happily, catching her hand and dragging her into his arms instead, the two of them dissolving into laughter — until Ning Xiaoqian would pull his hands away from his eyes and tell him he’d get wrinkles.

But this time, Nie Caichen’s hand grasped at nothing. His vision, gradually clearing, told him that there was nothing in front of him. The figure was only his own imagination. There was no longer a Ning Xiaoqian in this world — only a handful of ash, buried deep in the ground.

Nie Caichen stood up with a heavy head and unsteady legs and walked toward the kitchen. There were still some instant noodles in there — they would do for breakfast. He was not hungry. He just felt that he should eat something, because he still had work to do.

From the bedroom to the sitting room, and on to the kitchen — every surface he passed was covered in a thin film of dust. Nie Caichen was a man who cared about cleanliness; in the old days, if Ning Xiaoqian had not wiped the table down properly, he would always wipe it again for her. But for this past week, he had let the dust accumulate undisturbed — not because his grief was too great, but because he was afraid to disturb things. The vase on the coffee table, the small plush bear leaning against it, all the various objects large and small — every single one was still in exactly the position and at exactly the angle Ning Xiaoqian had placed it. He didn’t dare wipe them down. Once something was knocked out of place, it could never be returned to exactly where it had been.

Back at the office, he found every colleague buzzing like a bee. Barely anyone noticed he had returned. His departmental colleagues offered him a brief word of condolence and then returned to their own work.

Nie Caichen opened his files and mechanically fed dull data into his emptied mind. His productivity that day was, to his own surprise, unusually high.

When Nie Caichen walked out through the company’s front doors, he realized that work seemed to have made him forget his grief — and so, before all of this, when Ning Xiaoqian was still alive, what had work been making him forget? He gave a wry smile, draped his jacket over his shoulder, and walked home beneath the last light of the evening sun.

“Excuse me, Mr. Nie — could you help me with something?”

As Nie Caichen walked toward the elevator, wrapped in the night chill, head down, a young woman wearing a red knitted hat looked up at him with a touch of shyness.

Only then did Nie Caichen notice that there were several large boxes on the ground beside her. And this girl — he recognized her. She was Su Xiao, who lived in Unit 9C across from them. In the old days, whenever Ning Xiaoqian ran into Su Xiao in the elevator, the two of them would always chat for a few minutes. And so Nie Caichen had come to know that Su Xiao’s hometown was in a remote county town in the south, that she was now in her final year at a university in this city, and that she had moved out on her own to make it easier to work part-time.

People who have both left their hometowns to make their way in the world have a way of feeling close to each other without quite realizing it. Aside from chatting when they met, whenever either of them cooked something good, they would share a little with the other. This girl, though, was always out early and back late; the two households rarely crossed paths.

Now Su Xiao was in difficulty, and Nie Caichen had happened upon her — of course he would help.

“I’m so sorry,” Su Xiao said, holding one of the slightly lighter boxes, climbing the stairs, and explaining to Nie Caichen: “The delivery man saw the elevator was broken, left everything here, and walked off. I’ve put you to a lot of trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all — happy to help.” Nie Caichen managed a thin smile, and said offhandedly: “I rarely see you around.”

“I know — lately I’ve been busy looking for work, and tutoring several children in English on the side.” Su Xiao gave a resigned little laugh. “University students these days — the pressure is enormous.”

“When my wife and I first came to this city, we were in much the same situation as you.” The memory of those early days in the big city came back to him — life had been very hard, and for a time they had eaten nothing but instant noodles morning, noon, and night. Now, he found himself missing the taste of those bowls of instant noodles with an intensity that surprised him.

After Nie Caichen had carried the boxes into Su Xiao’s sitting room and turned to leave, Su Xiao called him back, looking apologetic: “I really have put you to so much trouble — if you don’t mind, please stay for a simple meal?” She glanced at the two packets of instant noodles on the coffee table with some embarrassment. “There isn’t much to offer, and the only thing I’m best at making is instant noodles.”

At that moment, Nie Caichen had just been thinking of the instant noodles Ning Xiaoqian used to make. Hearing Su Xiao’s invitation, something stirred in his heart. “Then I’ll take you up on that,” he said.

Su Xiao immediately broke into a delighted expression. She picked up the noodles and headed to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder as she went: “Just a moment — it won’t take long.”

Nie Caichen sat on the sofa and looked around the simple but reasonably tidy room. The sparse furniture was scattered about the sitting room; on the desk in the corner sat a laptop that looked heavy and old. Beyond that, there seemed to be nothing of any value.

Just then, a wave of steaming warmth drifted toward him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Su Xiao carried a large bowl and set it carefully on the coffee table.

Nie Caichen lifted his chopsticks and, amid the heat and fragrance rising from the noodles, caught a distinctive smell beneath the aroma.

“You added pepper?” He gently lifted a few strands of noodles and asked.

Whenever Ning Xiaoqian cooked noodles, she always added a little white pepper — she said it drove out the cold. At first Nie Caichen hadn’t quite taken to it, but gradually he had grown to love this mildly pungent seasoning, and the warmth that spread from throat to stomach after he ate it.

Su Xiao scooped up some noodles and slurped them into her mouth, smiling: “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. When I was little, every winter my mother would add white pepper to the big pot she had going — just a bit of greens and a few noodles in the broth. Every time we ate it, my siblings and I felt completely warm all over.” She chewed slowly, her gaze settling somewhere far away. “But then, a car accident one year left me the only one in my family. I’ve always wanted to eat that bowl of greens and noodles from my childhood again — I’ve tried making it many times, but I can never quite get the original taste.”

Nie Caichen slowly lowered his raised chopsticks.

“I’ve already heard about Mrs. Nie,” Su Xiao said, with a sigh. “She was a good person. If there truly is a next life, she will be very happy in it.”

Nie Caichen was briefly taken aback. He gave a slight nod, then lowered his head and took a large mouthful of noodles.

The taste really was wonderful. A humble bowl of instant noodles — and yet at this moment, it was more satisfying than any delicacy or feast.

But after his palate had savored all the warmth this bowl had to offer, Nie Caichen felt there was still something missing.

He took another mouthful. Still he could not identify what it was.

Just then, an unusually clear and piercing telephone ring came through the half-open door from across the hallway, reaching Nie Caichen’s ears with perfect clarity.

He recognized that ring at once — it was the landline in his own home. His expression changed. He set down his chopsticks at once, apologized to Su Xiao, and hurried across to open his own door and answer the phone.

On the three-tiered wooden shelf beside the sofa, the white telephone was still ringing — but Nie Caichen stopped dead where he stood. The telephone cord dangled from the shelf, its end lying alone on the floor. From the first day of his bereavement leave, he had unplugged the telephone cord. He had not plugged it back in since.

Four hours before, at the Number 77 bus stop.

“Do you want to see her?”

A lean, spare old man, dressed in a thin, faded dark blue Chinese-style tunic, clutching a string of prayer beads that gave off a dim, shadowy fragrance, shuffled slowly out from behind the bus stop sign and came to stand beside Nie Caichen. His eyes were level with the middle distance, as though he were addressing the open air.

Nie Caichen glanced sideways at this strangely behaved old man and said nothing.

He had left work two hours later than usual that day. Looking around, the stop in the cold of the night held only one other pair of people — a man and woman yawning at the far end — and himself and this old man. Instinctively, Nie Caichen shifted half a step away, widening the distance between them.

“Tonight, Xiaoqian will come back,” the old man went on, talking to himself, his prayer beads rolling smoothly between his fingers. “Those bound by fate will meet again; those without a bond will part forever.”

Nie Caichen’s heart lurched. He spun around: “What did you say? How do you know about Xiaoqian?”

The old man chuckled softly. The polished prayer beads flowed with a lovely luster.

“In the eyes of someone in love, the beloved’s name is engraved there. I can see it.”

Nie Caichen’s mouth fell open slightly; for a moment he didn’t know what to say. The old man reached into his pocket and produced a small black brocade pouch, which he held out before Nie Caichen. “Keep it on your person. When it begins to glow, the first living being that appears before you will be the vessel carrying her soul.”

Nie Caichen stared at the pouch, making no move to take it.

“Who are you, exactly?” Nie Caichen looked warily at the face before him — seamed with wrinkles, every feature utterly ordinary.

The old man smiled again: “A passerby with no heart for watching others pine in longing.” With that, he gave a flick of his wrist, and the brocade pouch flew high into the air.

By instinct, Nie Caichen stretched out his hand and caught it before it could hit the ground. He looked up — and the old man had already walked away into the distance.

Under the dim yellow streetlights, Nie Caichen walked quickly, his hand in his coat pocket gripping the black brocade pouch tightly.

In truth, every part of him was reluctant to touch this thing — and yet, he needed it. His heart was divided: one half mocking himself for his own absurdity, the other half harboring an inexplicable and powerful hope.

The pouch in his coat pocket was like a poppy blooming open — warmed by the heat of Nie Caichen’s palm, it gave off an irresistibly beguiling pull.

By the time Nie Caichen came back to himself, the telephone had stopped ringing. He found that he had somehow sunk to the floor — and yet he felt no pain from the fall, only a soft and yielding cushion beneath him.

He looked down. The sofa cushion Ning Xiaoqian had sewn with her own hands was now sitting directly beneath him. When she had first made it, he had even mocked her craftsmanship — it had come out thick and awkward, neither round nor square.

Nie Caichen got up, picked up the cushion, and ran his fingers over the uneven, crooked stitches. Gradually, the image of Ning Xiaoqian rose before his eyes — clumsy and patient with her sewing needle, sitting beneath the lamp, chatting away about everything she’d seen and heard that day while tirelessly working on her great creations. Such scenes had always seemed like pages turned and forgotten, with nothing worth remembering. But now, Nie Caichen felt as though bewitched — desperate to freeze every one of those moments before him forever.

Ding-dong! The doorbell rang out, bright and clear — and at the same moment, a faint ring of five-colored light seeped out from Nie Caichen’s coat pocket.

He jolted in shock. The old man’s words detonated in his ears.

He opened the door to find Su Xiao standing there, holding up a mobile phone: “You left your phone at my place.”

“Ah… thank you…” Nie Caichen took the phone, and looking at the smiling face in front of him, found that his tongue — usually quite cooperative — had suddenly tied itself in knots.

“Won’t you invite me in for a moment?” Su Xiao peered past him into the apartment.

“Please come in.” Nie Caichen blinked, and stepped aside a little awkwardly.

Once inside, Su Xiao fell strangely and completely silent. She pressed her lips together and walked slowly about the sitting room on her own, her fingertips drifting lightly over every object — the cream-colored curtains with their hanging fringe, the small wooden table holding the porcelain dolls and the Winnie-the-Pooh toy, and the fabric wall art — all left with traces of her touch.

Nie Caichen watched her face, and suddenly felt a scorching heat in his right palm. He glanced down into his coat pocket — the light from the brocade pouch had grown far stronger. In the blink of an eye, it shot out from between his tightly cupped fingers, streaking through the air in a straight line of five intertwining colors, its far end landing squarely on Su Xiao, who stood with her back to him, staring fixedly at the wedding photograph.

A beautiful halo lit up around Su Xiao’s silhouette in an instant. Her fingers lingered, reluctant to leave, on the photograph of Nie Caichen and Ning Xiaoqian — and after a sigh so faint it was barely there, she slowly turned around.

“I’m back late. I’m sorry.”

That face — where was there any trace of Su Xiao? The eyes, the brows, the nose, the lips — every feature was unmistakably Ning Xiaoqian’s.

Nie Caichen’s heart lurched into a frantic rhythm. He stared in disbelief at the woman in front of him — the woman he knew more intimately than anyone in the world.

“I kept trying to come back sooner, but I couldn’t find the way home.” Su Xiao — or rather, Ning Xiaoqian — puckered her lips in distress, her large eyes glistening with wronged tears. “It wasn’t until today, when an old man gave me a flying brocade pouch and told me to follow it, that I…”

She had not yet finished speaking when Nie Caichen stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. With his face buried near her ear, he murmured in agitation: “Is it you? Have you truly come back?”

“Darling, you’re holding me so tight I can barely breathe,” said Ning Xiaoqian, eyes wide, mouth in a small pout. “What’s gotten into you today? Something feels very strange…”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t say a word — listen to me, Xiaoqian.” Nie Caichen straightened up and held his wife’s face between his palms as though cradling the most precious thing in the world, tears gathering in his eyes. “It’s my fault. I should never have ignored what you felt. I should never have fobbed you off with excuses of being busy. I should never have been impatient with you… Come back, won’t you? Let’s start over.”

“Darling, what are you talking about?” Ning Xiaoqian looked at him in confusion, reaching up to feel his forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

“Xiaoqian…” Looking into those eyes that had haunted his dreams, Nie Caichen could hold himself together no longer. He pulled her into his arms again. “Since heaven is letting you come back, I will never let you leave me again, not even in death. Give me a chance — I’ll make it up to you with everything I have.”

“Make it up to me?” Ning Xiaoqian’s expression slowly shifted. “Is that truly possible?”

Nie Caichen pressed his face into her hair and gave a fierce nod.

“And what could ever make it up to me?” Ning Xiaoqian asked in a low, drawn-out voice.

“Anything!” Nie Caichen said without hesitation. “Even my life, if that’s what it takes.”

The corners of Ning Xiaoqian’s mouth bloomed into a beautiful smile — as though she had finally received something she had been waiting for a very long time. The arms she had wrapped around Nie Caichen began to slide slowly upward, toward the back of his neck.

Nie Caichen, still adrift between joy and grief, did not notice that the delicate hand on his back had suddenly sprouted coarse, dark, bristling hairs. The tender pink fingernails had turned a deep, bruised purple — and had grown five inches long, their tips razored to knife-sharp points, driving straight for the exposed nape of his neck!

With a soft thud, Nie Caichen felt something soft and fuzzy press against his throat, accompanied by a dull throb of pain. The body of “Ning Xiaoqian” in his arms, which had been soft and warm, went cold and rigid as stone in an instant. He jerked his head up — and the figure before him was no longer his wife at all. It was a creature with a human body and a beast’s head, four blue horns sprouting from its crown, and its raised, razor-sharp claw was presently skewered through a thick Winnie-the-Pooh toy — the tips of its claws having punched clean through the bear’s belly and just barely poked out the other side.

Had it not been for that toy appearing out of nowhere to block the creature’s swipe, what Nie Caichen had to contend with would have been a great deal more than a scratch on the back of his neck.

Nie Caichen let out a shout, shoved the creature away, and stumbled backward — only to find himself caught fast by a tangle of white threads, fine as silk, that had wrapped around him. The other end of these threads was growing straight from the creature’s ears.

“Let go of me — who are you?!” Nie Caichen fought and shouted — but the white threads were pulling him inch by inch toward the creature, and he was powerless against it.

The thing — which resembled a goat in shape, yet was a hundred times more terrifying than any goat — cracked open its drooling maw, revealing rows of savage, jutting fangs. It flung away the Winnie-the-Pooh bear that had been obstructing its claw and watched Nie Caichen being dragged closer and closer, emitting a rumbling, heaving sound. Its bulging, red-veined eyes were filled with the pure greed of a predator sighting its prey.

Nie Caichen tore frantically at the white threads across his chest, but they were harder than steel wire — no matter how much force he exerted, they did not budge.

“Help me — help — let go of me!” As the creature’s slavering jaws drew closer and closer to his body, Nie Caichen instinctively covered his head with his arms.

A sharp whistling sound suddenly came from above. A scorching blast of heat shot straight at Nie Caichen’s chest. He forced himself to look — the vase, the chair cushion, the fruit tray, and the refrigerator from the corner — all of them had risen into the air. Every object was encased in a flickering red glow, hurling itself at the creature. Among them, a small but vicious fruit knife spun several tight circles in the air, then slashed down hard against the white threads. Two tremendous crashes rang out — the creature and Nie Caichen were flung in opposite directions, and the threads connecting them were severed cleanly in two by that unassuming little knife.

Then came a great crashing clatter, as every one of those objects came smashing down on the creature’s head — followed by a thunderous boom as the refrigerator dropped straight down and slammed on top of it, pinning the creature flat with only its head and four limbs showing, leaving it thrashing helplessly, able to produce nothing but a strange, squealing wail.

At that moment, a light breeze came in through the sealed windows. The curtains swayed gently — and a dark shadow flashed into the room with the speed of lightning.

Before Nie Caichen could make out who had entered, he saw a handkerchief-sized piece of black cloth fly from a pale hand, landing squarely and precisely on the creature’s head.

Accompanied by several wisps of hissing green smoke, a shriek that pierced the eardrums erupted from the creature’s convulsing body.

Nie Caichen watched as the creature under the refrigerator deflated like a punctured balloon — slowly, steadily compressing — until it shrank into a gray lump of flesh no bigger than a fist. The black cloth wrapped around it, and with a swift motion it leaped up and flew back into a pair of slender, elegant fingers.

Slumped on the floor amid the wreckage, Nie Caichen stared blankly at the young woman standing by the window — willowy in build, black hair cascading past her waist, dressed in a black gown — and managed to stammer: “Who — who are you?”

The moment it dawned on him that this woman had passed straight through the wall to get in, his whole body gave a violent shudder, and he could not produce another word.

“I’m your neighbor — I live in the unit below yours. I moved in the day your wife passed away.” The woman in black gave him a gentle smile, tossing the tightly wrapped handkerchief idly in her hand as if playing with a toy. “I came today to deal with this tiresome creature while I was at it.”

“You — I don’t understand — what are you talking about?” Nie Caichen stared at her in bewilderment.

“A goat’s head with four horns, parasitic within the human body, feeding on the vital essence of the human heart — that is what is called an Earth-Crawler.” The woman tucked the handkerchief into her elegant bag, walked toward Nie Caichen, and without warning reached out and gave the top of his head a firm pat.

Nie Caichen felt his stomach lurch immediately. He turned to one side and retched up a stream of thick black fluid with a sharp, acrid stench.

“The instant noodles you ate earlier had this creature’s blood mixed into them,” the woman said, covering her nose. “When a person who has consumed a demon’s blood on their own birthday says the words ‘I am willing to give up my life’ for another — the creature can then easily take possession of them. This Earth-Crawler has been coveting your body for a long time. One more moment, and you would have become its new vessel.”

“A demon!” The word appearing in his mind was something Nie Caichen could not accept. How could something that existed only in legend be standing, alive and real, right in front of him?

“From what I know, it has been using this building as its base for a very long time,” the woman continued evenly. “The woman who jumped to her death here before was also its vessel. But because it found that body unsuitable, it sought to destroy it and escape to a new host — and so it found this young university student. Now it had set its sights on you — young and vigorous.”

The woman spoke of these extraordinary things in a mild, unhurried tone. Her keen gaze dropped to the broken picture frame lying on the floor. In the photograph, Ning Xiaoqian smiled in happiness, dressed in her wedding gown.

“A creature like the Earth-Crawler must first gain a human’s trust before it can cause harm.” The woman looked away and sighed. “Your wife died because this creature drained the vital essence from her heart. Doctors would never be able to find the true cause of death — all they could see was a heart that had stopped functioning.”

Nie Caichen felt as though his breathing had ceased. Ning Xiaoqian had not died of heart disease — she had been killed by a demon disguising itself as a pitiable university student. This was a truth he could not accept. And yet the woman in black’s bright, frank, perceptive eyes left him no choice but to believe it — every word of it was real.

“This creature saw through your longing for your wife, and so it took the form of an old man — wearing the manner of someone with hidden knowledge — and gave you a brocade pouch tainted with its own demonic presence, luring you into believing that the Su Xiao you saw was your wife. You had already consumed its blood with no defenses at all. The moment you spoke the words offering your life, it could have taken over your body with ease.” The woman bent down and retrieved the wedding photograph from the floor, then shook her head with a look of regret. “If only I had come here a little sooner.”

“Have you been protecting me all along?” Nie Caichen pressed both hands against his scrambled head.

The woman in black smiled. “It was not I who protected you.”

Nie Caichen blinked, and asked in a daze: “The Winnie-the-Pooh — the fruit knife — the refrigerator… that wasn’t you?”

“This room is what protected you,” she said, walking slowly toward the broken telephone. She picked up the receiver. “Or rather — she sensed your danger and called you back.”

“What?” Nie Caichen was more confused than ever.

“You were trying to find your wife, weren’t you?” She turned her head and looked at the bewildered Nie Caichen. “Did you truly believe her soul would attach itself to some living creature and return to you?”

Nie Caichen lowered his head in dejection.

The woman walked over to him and placed the photograph of Ning Xiaoqian alongside the broken receiver at his side. “In truth,” she said, “she has never left your home.”

Those words struck Nie Caichen like a bolt of lightning. He snapped his head up and seized the woman’s arm. “What did you say? She is here? She is truly here?”

“The Winnie-the-Pooh that took the claw meant for you. The fruit knife that cut through the demon’s threads. All the other objects that attacked the Earth-Crawler. In other words — every single thing in this home has Ning Xiaoqian’s soul living within it.” The woman turned and walked slowly toward the window. “The true love of human beings is a remarkable thing. Even after the body has died, love finds a way to exist — it stays behind forever, and carries within it a power that even I find astonishing. I had originally intended to act while the Earth-Crawler was in its own lair. But the telephone ring that came from your home made me change my mind. I wanted to see just how much power human love truly holds — and as it turned out, I was not disappointed.” She stopped at the window and with one graceful movement drew back the curtains. Silver-white moonlight fell across her, tracing her silhouette in soft curves.

Nie Caichen stared at her back in a daze. Every word she had spoken struck him like a blade cutting slowly and deeply into his heart.

“Xiaoqian!” He stood helplessly on the heap of broken things, and reached out his hand by instinct. “Are you here?”

The woman in black turned her head with a faint smile. “She is here. She wishes to speak with you. Only — human beings have no way of hearing a soul’s voice directly.”

Nie Caichen startled, and as if returning to his senses, ran to the woman’s side and grabbed her arm. “Who exactly are you? Can you let me see Xiaoqian?”

“Me?” The woman in black’s smiling face bloomed like a flower opening under the moonlight. “If I told you I was a thousand-year-old tree demon drifting through the human world — one who likes to take all the strange and extraordinary things she encounters and write them up as stories to sell to magazines for pocket money — would you believe me?”

“I…” Nie Caichen was at a loss for words.

“You will hear what your wife wishes to say to you.” Her eyes shimmered with a light like scattered stars, gazing out at the city sleeping in the night beyond the window. In a mild and unhurried voice she said: “Many times, love is not some grand, earthshaking drama of life and death. Perhaps it is only a nagging that irritates you. Perhaps only a hand-knitted sweater that doesn’t look quite right. But it is precisely in this way that love exists, so deeply embedded in ordinary life — warming you, protecting you, asking nothing in return. As simple as that.” With those words, the woman in black took a light step forward, and her body grew slowly transparent in the moonlight — dissolving before Nie Caichen like a dream, until she was gone entirely.

Nie Caichen stood with his mouth slightly open, staring at the place where she had vanished, half-convinced he had sunk into some extraordinary dream.

He clutched Ning Xiaoqian’s photograph tightly, and made his slow way back to the bedroom. Looking at this home he and she had built together with their own hands, a thousand tangled feelings churned inside him.

“Xiaoqian, I’m sorry.” He picked up the Winnie-the-Pooh bear, battered and ragged beyond repair, and held it tightly against his chest.

In the stillness of the room, the computer beside the wall suddenly turned itself on of its own accord, and a song began to drift from the speakers:

I believe you are still here, that you never left — my love like an angel watches over you. If life comes only to this point, and from here on there is no longer any me — I will find an angel to love you in my place…

The beautiful notes flowed through the room. Nie Caichen’s tears fell one by one onto Ning Xiaoqian’s photograph. Faintly, in his ears, he seemed to hear his wife’s laughter — and those words he had once thought were about as old-fashioned as words could get:

Love conquers all.

Epilogue

“I — I’m done,” said Black Robe Number Six, in a small, hesitant voice.

Ao Chi drew in a breath and cast me a glance. “How come there’s a tree demon in this story again? Do we really need so many tree demons?”

“I’m sorry — I was just telling it according to what was in the magazine, and it really did mention a tree demon.” Black Robe Number Six rushed to explain, then pointed at Black Robe Number Five. “Maybe we happened to read the same magazine?”

I pushed Ao Chi aside and said dismissively: “There are so many trees in this world — why can’t there be a few more tree demons? Besides, the tree demon in this story is positively self-sufficient. Collecting stories to trade for pocket money — now that’s integrity!”

Ao Chi turned away in exasperation and muttered: “Every single one of them has integrity. Except you.”

“What did you say?” I brought my face right up to his. “Say that again!”

“Being busy is always the excuse you give to people who don’t matter!” Ao Chi pinched my face between his hands.

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked through the squished expression.

“I ask you to do this, you say you’re busy. I ask you to do that, you say you’re busy. But you’re never too busy to run around having fun and eating?” Ao Chi’s eyes blazed.

I pulled his hand away — but didn’t shake it off. I looked at him seriously for a very long moment. When I judged that he was beginning to find my stare unnerving, I said, with all the gravity I could muster: “Ao Chi — if one day you are truly in danger, no matter how busy I am, I will go to rescue you. Even if you are in the depths of hell.”

A chorus of groans erupted around the tent, as all the Black Robes grabbed their arms and cried: “Too sappy! So saccharine! That gave me chills!”

“Really?” Ao Chi’s face moved from stunned disbelief to pure delight.

I nodded.

He pulled me into his arms in one motion and whispered in my ear: “Since I matter so much to you… then let me have the last honey-glazed roasted chicken leg!”

And with that, he snatched up, with lightning speed, the extraordinarily plump, glistening, fragrant chicken leg from the grill.

The Black Robes burst into laughter.

Fine. I wasn’t angry. Not even slightly.

Giving up a chicken leg — that too is part of love. Better to give it up now than to one day want to give it, and find there is no one left to take it. Life, after all, is just the ordinary, everyday things — firewood, rice, cooking oil, and salt. The glorious City of Gold, blazing with brilliance and splendor — it is, in truth, very far away from all of us.

To have someone by your side. To have someone to laugh and make noise with you. That is enough.