“I meant to call on you,” she said, “but my stepmother has been ill.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. It was a remote spot, far from the main house and hidden by drifts of trees.
“Inspecting the wall. The rains have been so heavy lately that there’ve been several landslides. And look what has happened here.”
Coming up beside her, I saw how a yawing fissure had opened up in the loose earth. It terminated in a narrow shaft, so deep that I could not see the bottom from my vantage point. The sides were oddly regular and I realized that it was a disused well. The landslide had destroyed the upper portion so that it resembled nothing less than a lopsided funnel that dropped sharply into the old well.
“Long ago there was a house here, half a mile from the coast in my grandfather’s time. But the sea has eaten in until nothing is left,” said Yan Hong. “Soon this too will disappear.”
I was surprised that there should be a well so close to the sea, but our climate was so wet and torrid that there were numerous underground springs that ran to the ocean. It was not difficult to sink a well anywhere, though this one had long since gone dry. I wondered where the old house had stood and what had happened to its inhabitants. Had they passed on to rebirth, or was it possible that in the Plains of the Dead, there was still such a house by the seafront? My skin prickled, and once again I was reminded of how I would dwell on such thoughts for the rest of my life.
Yan Hong dismissed the servant with some instructions while I gazed at the view. The contrast between the crumbling earth and the manicured lawns beyond the drifts of trees was stark.
“We used to play games here when we were children,” said Yan Hong, her eyes fixed on some distant memory. “It was our secret place. Of course, the well wasn’t like this then. It had a proper top and a cover. We said it was haunted and that a woman had thrown herself down it.”
“Was that true?” I asked. Now that I had seen the spirits of the dead, I could easily imagine a hungry ghost, lank-haired and gaunt, tethered to the old well.
“Of course not. But we liked to frighten one another. I said the woman had died for love, but Tian Bai said she was a witch who still lived at the bottom.”
“And Lim Tian Ching?” I asked, eager to discover more about their relationships.
“Oh, he was a crybaby and a tattletale! He was much younger than us, though. Once we tricked him. We told him there was a secret passage here and if he waited, we would show him where it was. But we ran back to the house instead. Tian Bai wanted to go back and fetch him, but it was dinnertime and we forgot.”
I pictured Lim Tian Ching as a fat and frightened child, shivering beside the old well in the gathering darkness. Perhaps this was just one of the many grievances he held against Yan Hong and Tian Bai.
“That was rather cruel,” I said.
“I suppose so. We were sorry about it, but he told on us and we were punished by my father. It wasn’t so bad for me, but Tian Bai was beaten so badly that he couldn’t sit down for two days.” She spoke matter-of-factly, far more frankly than I had expected. But perhaps it was because I was now Tian Bai’s fiancée and she considered me an ally. She had no idea that I had entered this house as a spirit, drifting around and spying on her. Ashamed, I felt even more reluctant to question her about Lim Tian Ching’s death.
“What will you do with this well?”
“Now that it’s been destroyed like this, we’ll have to wall this area off. I must tell Tian Bai about it. He’s out right now, but he ought to be back very soon. Why don’t you wait for him?”
Secretly, I was relieved he wasn’t around. It was awkward enough to question her; several times I began to say something but stopped myself. But I was acutely aware that time was passing. It might be my last chance to speak with her before the wedding. My last chance before embarking on a lifetime of suspicion. And so, holding my breath, I plunged into a tale of how I had been troubled by a dream. A dream of Lim Tian Ching, who said he had been murdered. It was suitably vague and mostly true anyway. I watched Yan Hong carefully, but though she turned a trifle pale, there was little change in her expression.
“Do you believe in such things?” she asked, fingering a papery bougainvillea blossom.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He was upset, though. And very angry with Tian Bai.”
She frowned. “If it truly was his spirit, I wouldn’t be surprised if he meant to make trouble. He was always like that.”
“But he said you kept his teacup.”
She looked startled, then oddly defiant. “Did he accuse me too?”
“Do you have the cup?” My pulse quickened. If she lied to me, I would know not to trust her.
“Yes. I have it.” She gave me an appraising look. “It was part of my mother’s dowry. He took a fancy to it so she gave it to him. When he died, I took it back. He should never have had it in the first place.” There was a wealth of bitterness in her voice and I remembered the look of resentment she had given Madam Lim on the staircase.
“Did Tian Bai put anything in it?” The words hung between us like poisonous flowers. Once said, I could never take them back.
Scornfully, she said, “Tian Bai would never do anything like that! Do you even know everything he’s done for you? He’s already repaid your father’s debts. If you can accuse him like this, you don’t deserve to marry him!”
“Then did you put anything in it?” I pressed on, aware that I was burning all my bridges. After this, she would never look on me as a friend again. The thought was painful, yet I wanted, desperately, to know the truth.
Her gaze was bright and sharp. “If I said yes, would anyone believe you? But let’s suppose I really had a grudge against him. That from childhood, my mother and I had to serve him and put up with his demands and humiliations, because he was the son of the first wife. And just suppose one day he was malingering and I wanted to punish him. I might well have put something in his tea. But those are purely suppositions, of course.”
She brushed past me then paused. “If you see the ghost of Lim Tian Ching again, you can tell him that I’m glad he’s dead.”
Speechless, I could only watch as Yan Hong walked on without another word, but she had gone no more than ten paces when a figure appeared from among the trees. Yan Hong stopped short, even though the creature ignored her. I caught my breath for an instant, convinced it was a hungry ghost. The ghost of the woman Yan Hong said had died in the well. Then I realized that the gaunt features and sparse, wild hair belonged to Madam Lim. Her once plump cheeks had fallen in and her neat figure had shrunk until it was little more than bones rattling in a bag of skin. The expensive kebaya had been replaced by a shapeless shift, the collar stained with food. I had heard she was ill, but it was a terrible change from the self-possessed woman who had invited me to play mahjong a scant few months ago. She shuffled forward and seized my wrist with a grip that was surprisingly strong. I flinched, but dared not shake it off.
“So, you’re going to marry into this house after all.” Her eyes wandered past me. “It’s the wrong one,” she said. “The wrong one.”
“What do you mean, Auntie?” In this state, I no longer wondered that Tian Bai had tried to keep me away from the house.
“I said you’re marrying the wrong one! You were supposed to marry my son. But my son is gone.” The wail she let out had an eldritch, unnerving quality. “He’s really gone. He doesn’t come to me in dreams anymore.”
&
nbsp; I stared at her, recalling how Lim Tian Ching had boasted of his influence over his mother. No doubt that had ended when Er Lang had instigated the arrests in the spirit world.
“It’s better this way,” I said as gently as I could. “Let him pass on.”
“How can I, when he was murdered? I heard you talking to Yan Hong just now. You said you saw him as well!”
Alarmed, I glanced at Yan Hong, who stood frozen behind her. “It was just a dream. We were only talking about dreams.”
But Madam Lim was muttering and shaking her head. “She said it! She killed him and Tian Bai must have helped her.”
“Didn’t you hear Yan Hong? Tian Bai had nothing to do with it.”
“Lies! All lies!” She released my hand and lurched forward, dangerously close to the crumbling edge of the disused well. Instinctively, Yan Hong stretched out a hand toward her and she grasped it. Too late, I caught the glint in her eye. With surprising strength, Madam Lim shoved Yan Hong. Uttering a cry, she lost her balance and as I grabbed for her, we teetered crazily and fell over the edge.
Chapter 38
I was sliding, falling. Desperately, I clung with my fingers to halt my descent but the loose earth broke away beneath my hands. Small stones rattled and cut my face. My hands were bloodied and raw as I snatched at the sides, gasping with relief as I found a foothold. Above me, Yan Hong shuddered to a halt as well. Like two geckos, we pressed ourselves against the steep slope while below, the dark shaft of the well gaped like a wound. Looking up, I saw Madam Lim’s white face as she peered over.
“You stupid girls!” she said. “If it hadn’t been for you, my son would still be here. Both of you caused him so much grief.”
A stone hit me, and then another one. I heard Yan Hong give a sharp cry.
“Mother!” she said. “Please!”
“Don’t you dare call me Mother! Your real mother was a suicide. I’ll tell everyone you did the same thing and dragged Li Lan over. And now, I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago.” Her face vanished, and though we screamed and shouted, it did not reappear.
From the echo of falling stones, the well wasn’t very deep. Just enough to break our necks if we fell. Though I fumbled blindly with my feet, I dared not climb farther down. I closed my eyes in sheer terror. Above me, I could hear Yan Hong sobbing.
“Can you climb up?” I called.
“I can’t. I’m afraid of heights.”
Peering up, I saw that we weren’t that far from the edge, although the slope of the funnel was perilously steep. If she could climb a few feet she might make it. “Feel with your hands!” I said. “Try to pull yourself up. I’ll help you fit your feet.” I found a rocky foothold and supporting her ankle, guided her to it. In this manner, trembling and halting frequently, Yan Hong managed to climb higher. Grimly, I pulled myself up after her. My heart was racing, my palms slick with sweat and blood. If I looked down into the darkness, I was lost.
When she was almost at the top, Yan Hong began to cry again. “I can’t! I just can’t! The stone comes out here.”
I saw that she was right. A large rock, displaced by the landslide, bulged outward above her. It would be very difficult for her to make the final ascent. Ignoring the pain in my arms, I forced myself a little higher until I found a narrow shelf to wedge my feet on.
“Step on my shoulders,” I called.
Sobbing, Yan Hong put one hand out and grasped the rock. I placed her foot on my shoulder and braced myself as she put her weight on me. As she scrabbled for another handhold, I extended my arm. “Put your other foot on my palm!” The effort of supporting her made me gasp. “Hurry!”
Yan Hong was almost over the bulge when she slipped. Her feet flailed wildly as she grabbed for a foothold. With all my strength, I shoved her up. She made it over, but I lost my balance and slid helplessly down, so terrified that I couldn’t even scream. I was going to die now, my neck broken at the bottom. Above me, I heard Yan Hong’s despairing shriek. “Li Lan!”
My slithering fall was broken by a ledge to which I clung. It was dressed stone, the remains of the well shaft that had broken off in the landslide. My feet kicked desperately in the air, then I lost my grip and dropped into the darkness. I landed on soft dampness, the bottom of the well. When I looked up, I saw Yan Hong’s frightened face far above me.
“I’m all right!” I shouted at her. “Go and stop Madam Lim! I can wait!”
Yan Hong nodded frantically, then disappeared.
For some minutes after she had gone, I could only think of how long it had taken me to walk from the main house through the extensive grounds. Had it taken a quarter of an hour, or even more? Either way, I would have to wait for a while. And what if Madam Lim had planned something else for Tian Bai? Yan Hong had said he would be back at any moment, though she might simply abandon me. After all, if she had really poisoned Lim Tian Ching, she had every reason to silence me as well. Perhaps it had been foolish to help her, but there was no other option. As my eyes became accustomed to the dimness, I explored the bottom of the well. Mud had cushioned my fall and spared me serious injury, but the walls of dressed stone rose sharply on all sides. They were damp and slippery with moss, and try as I might, I could not scale them.
As I squelched around, ankle deep in mud, I stepped on something hard and long, about the length of a human thighbone. A dreadful suspicion made me freeze, thinking of the woman Yan Hong said had committed suicide. But those were only children’s stories, I told myself, not wanting to think that if Yan Hong abandoned me, I would become the hungry ghost in this well. Reaching down, I was relieved to fish out the broken handle of a broom. There was other debris as well: an old ax head, the rusted-out bottom of a pot. But nothing that would help me climb out. I stared up, seeing that the sky had turned an ominous gray as another storm threatened to sweep in off the coast. The air smelled wet and cold.
A heavy spatter of raindrops hit me. I wished for my light spirit body, which could easily have scaled the walls. I wished for the company of my sweet horse. But most of all, I wished for Er Lang. If I had still had the scale, I could have called for him. But there was a vast gulf between his position and mine; I had no right to expect anything further. Gritting my teeth, I told myself that I wouldn’t call him even if I could. I was too proud to do so; I would rescue myself.
Again and again, I tried to scale my prison. Several times, I gained a few agonizing feet only to lose my grip on the slick dressed stone. My nails were broken and bleeding, my breath coming in gasps. As I leaned against the wall, I thought bitterly of how weak this physical body was. Death was always near and despite my brief break from its clutches, it would soon claim me again. I had escaped once, from the Plains of the Dead, but I had not been alone—and perhaps in the end, it was hubris for me to claim I needed no one.
“Er Lang!” I shouted. “Er Lang! Where are you?”
My arms ached as I leaned against the shaft; my legs trembled with weakness. The light was fading. Tears ran down my face, mingling with the downpour that had started in earnest. Exhausted, I felt my strength seep away with the cold rain that stripped the warmth from my body. Though I longed to sit down, I shrank from the mud and its unknown contents. I shouted for help intermittently, but the estate grounds were so extensive that I despaired of anyone hearing me, especially in this deluge. It was laughable, even hysterical, that I should die now after having gone through so much effort to reclaim my body. Old Wong was right, I was a med
dlesome fool who was throwing away my chance at happiness, my chance to marry Tian Bai and be a wife and mother. How long had it been now? Hours, or merely minutes? My teeth chattered; my thoughts became increasingly disjointed. I prayed to Zheng He, the admiral who had sailed these waters almost five hundred years ago, and to my mother, wherever she was in the Plains of the Dead. Gabbled prayers, with promises to be good, to never do anything like this again if only Er Lang would come. Just one more time.
“Er Lang!” I cried again. My voice had grown hoarse. “Er Lang, you fool! You promise breaker!”
“Is this your way of asking for help?” And then he was there, looking down at me. The rain streamed off his bamboo hat in a sheet of silver needles. “What on earth are you doing?”
The relief of seeing him made my knees buckle. I wondered briefly whether he was a mirage drawn from the shimmering curtain of rain, but the exasperation in his voice was too convincing. Incoherently, I began to explain my predicament, but he shook his head. “Tell me later.”
To my horror, he jumped down the well shaft.
“What have you done?” I said. “Why didn’t you get a rope?” Overwrought, I almost burst into tears. “You . . . you insane creature! How will we ever get out again?”
Er Lang examined his shoes in dismay. “You should have told me there was mud down here.”
“Is that all you can say?” But I was glad, so glad to see him that I hugged him tightly. Despite his concern about his shoes, he didn’t seem to mind as I pressed my grimy face against his shoulder.
“Last time it was a cemetery, and now the bottom of a well,” he remarked. “What were you doing anyway?”
As I explained, his tone became icy. “So, you saved a murderer and let yourself be abandoned. Do you have some sort of death wish?”