The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 5
by Little PandaSpeaking of the Underworld’s Yellow Springs Bureau
“A name… she didn’t give one.” The old woman shook her head. “I had wanted to find out exactly which deity saved me, but the goddess claimed it was a secret of heaven.”
Zhuoxue listened with a touch of regret.
“Since secrets of heaven naturally cannot be revealed, I asked instead whether she had an alias in the mortal world.” The old woman smiled. “After all, when other deities wander the mortal realm, they always give themselves new names.”
Zhuoxue’s eyes brightened. “Did she tell you?”
“She only said her surname was Moqi.” The old woman’s face glowed with reverence. “That’s the royal surname of Shuyun Kingdom. This must be some kind-hearted princess who attained immortality.”
It was like a bolt from the blue.
Since when would a demon take a mortal’s surname? On Lingkong Mountain, the one demon willing to share a surname with mortals was probably just that one.
And not just any mortal surname, but the royal surname of Shuyun Kingdom. It was like rapeseed falling through the eye of a needle1—so perfectly coincidental, who else could it be but Longming?
“Could you have heard wrong?” For a moment, Zhuoxue couldn’t manage a smile.
She wouldn’t dare seek the tiger demon out now—keeping her distance was more like it. She thought in a daze: did that tiger demon really look like the portrait? Was she really so kind-hearted?
Had Auntie Lan not been deceiving her after all?
But rumors in the world don’t come from nowhere. All that talk about cruelty and tyranny, about slaughtering countless people—surely the tiger demon’s true nature must have shown through for other demons to spread such things.
“How could I have heard wrong!” The old woman declared with absolute certainty. “If the goddess hadn’t intervened, I’d never have lived to this day.”
Zhuoxue still didn’t believe that tiger demon was kind-hearted. She figured that if the one disturbing her peace hadn’t been a mortal, perhaps she wouldn’t have shown such compassion.
That was it—since she’d taken a mortal surname, she must be on the mortals’ side. What had possessed that tiger demon to share a pant leg2 with mortals!
How peculiar. Truly peculiar. There was actually a demon in this world more fond of mortals than she was.
She wouldn’t dare say the word “fond” in front of Lan Hui—if she did, Lan Hui would probably diagnose her with some kind of madness.
Zhuoxue muttered, “Since she shares a surname with the mortal royal family, she must have visited the Imperial City too. How is that not fate? I just can’t tell whether it’s good fate or bad.”
What a coincidence—she had visited the Imperial City in her dreams too, and seen the white tiger there.
Only, the white tiger in her dreams had no wings on its back, and its eyes were not crimson.
“I’ve never been to the imperial capital in my life,” the old woman said wistfully. “I hear it’s soft red fragrant earth3; once you go, you never want to leave. I’d love to see it myself.” She sighed out all her reluctance to part with the mortal world.
Zhuoxue had already snapped back to attention. She couldn’t help glancing at the portrait and said with a jut of her chin, “You’re a ghost now. When you were alive, you wanted to go but couldn’t. Now that you’re a ghost, what’s stopping you?”
“How would I get there?” the old woman murmured.
“Float! It doesn’t take any effort for you to float.” Zhuoxue rose into the air, her form as light and airy as any ghost. “Living has its joys, and death has its perks. For this next journey of ten thousand li4, you won’t even need to tire yourself out.”
The old woman slapped her forehead. “Ah, you’ve woken me up! It’s my first time being a ghost, isn’t it? I forgot I could float.”
“Then are you going to the imperial capital?” Zhuoxue rather wanted to see it herself—she had nothing but time these seven days anyway.
“I’m not going.” The old woman shook her head.
“You just said you wanted to go!” Zhuoxue was anxious.
The old woman turned to gaze out the door, sighing at the sound of the dirges. “These young ones certainly don’t know how to do things right, but every single brick here was laid with my own painstaking effort. How could I bear to leave? These seven days are my last here.”
Zhuoxue had no choice but to sit on the offering altar, resting her chin in her hand as she studied the bricks outside the door. She’d never laid bricks before and didn’t know if it was hard for mortals.
If it were a demon, all it would take was a flick of the fingers and a bit of magic.
“Oh well.” Zhuoxue puffed out her cheek. “If you’re not going, you’re not going.”
“Little girl, where are you from?” The old woman’s eyes filled with pity. “So young, and already a lost soul like me. You must not have been to many places. You’ll just have to go in your next life.”
That was a good question. A fox couldn’t very well say she came from Qiufeng Ridge. Everyone in town knew that Qiufeng Ridge was no place for the living.
If anything lived there, it had to be a demon or a ghost.
Zhuoxue put on a distressed look. “I forgot. When I died, I dove headfirst into a mountain hollow and broke my brain. I also forgot to wait for the Impermanence5 to come collect me. I just wandered and wandered, and here I am.”
The old woman’s heart went out to her even more. “Poor thing. How did no goddess save you?”
Please, Zhuoxue thought to herself. The “goddess” probably wouldn’t save her.
Since she couldn’t go to the imperial capital, she’d just have to tough out these seven days.
Fortunately, the old woman was a talker. Likely no one had chatted with her when she was alive, so now that she had company, her mouth wouldn’t stop.
The old woman started from her youth: her father who died young, her old uncle who stole the pixiu6 from in front of their door, and her mother who single-handedly hauled the stone pixiu statue back.
She also shared some local legends—about a fox woman who took a scholar’s place in the imperial examinations and, before she knew it, came in first and became the princess’s consort.
She spoke of the man-eating mists of Qiufeng Ridge, and the mournful singing that drifted out at midnight.
Zhuoxue figured the singing was probably Lishu’s. Oriole demons just loved to sing. Since she didn’t dare raise her voice in the cave, Lishu would wait until Lan Hui fell asleep, then sneak to the edge of Qiufeng Ridge and sing to her heart’s content.
Hearing storytellers at a teahouse wasn’t the same as hearing it here. The stories at teahouses were mostly tired old things—boring, really.
Zhuoxue listened with relish, and the seven days didn’t feel so dull after all.
No wonder the demon lord of Cangqiong Mountain Realm had taken a mortal surname. Once you’d tasted the finer things, what did the demon realm’s illusions and spells amount to?
Fortunately, Lishu hadn’t come to tip her off these past few days, which meant Lan Hui probably hadn’t noticed yet.
Zhuoxue relaxed. She sat in that courtyard and listened to stories for a full seven days, hearing the old woman’s entire life story from beginning to end.
Mourners came and cried for a full seven days too. Every visitor held the old woman dear. She had done plenty of good deeds in life, so it was no wonder the townsfolk couldn’t bear to let her go.
The entire house had soaked through with the smell of incense. The copper gong clanged—the seven days were up.
A quarter past midnight, a gust of spectral wind suddenly swept into the courtyard, sending paper ash swirling.
A dense ghostly aura crashed into the inner room along with a shout. Outside, people were still sobbing and calling out: “Grandma Qian, remember the way home! Don’t forget to come visit next year!”
Zhuoxue grumbled inwardly. Your Grandma Qian hadn’t stepped out of this house once in seven days. How could she forget the way home?
At least the seven days hadn’t dragged. She’d whiled them away listening to stories.
But the moment the door was forced open, she knew something was wrong. The spectral energy was overwhelming—clearly, the Black and White Impermanence were not to be trifled with.
Her reflexes were quick. She instantly dissolved into a wisp of green smoke and clung to the old woman’s back, using her yin energy to mask her presence.
Two ghost constables entered—one dark, one pale—each carrying a soul-summoning banner7. One banner read “Peace Under Heaven”; the other read “Wealth at First Sight.”
The two ghost constables bowed with cupped hands and spoke in unison: “Departed one, Qian Anxiao!”
“Qian Anxiao is present,” Grandma Qian answered in awe.
“Right this way,” the ghost constable said, raising his arm.
The old woman stood rooted in place. Her reluctance to leave surged like a rising tide, threatening to drown her entire soul.
“If you don’t come along, we’ll have to use the soul-locking chain.” A clatter from the Black Impermanence’s hand—a rigid chain crashed to the floor.
“Coming, coming.” The old woman waved through her tears, then paused. “I have a little friend who’d like to come along and be reincarnated. Would you two do us a kindness?”
She’d barely finished speaking when something poked her in the lower back.
The old woman barely managed to hold back her tears and changed her tune: “Oh, never mind. She’s not coming. We’ll go on our own.”
The Black and White Impermanence led the way ahead, each stride covering a li. They walked lower and lower, as though they were Tuxingsun8—one dive downward, and they were in the ground.
Who knew there was a whole other world beneath the earth. Further down stood a city, and beyond it, a dark, dark river. The river was perfectly still, like dead water.
A few wandering souls drifted above the river with no destination, their expressions utterly bleak. They had nothing left but their souls, yet they still looked as if they’d lost those too.
“This is the Winding Place. The Nine Springs Bureau is just ahead,” the Black and White Impermanence said in unison. “If you wish to be reborn, walk forward. If you wish your soul to scatter, simply stay in the Winding Place for three days.”
The old woman hastily bowed in thanks. Once the Impermanence had moved ahead, she patted her lower back twice and said in a hushed voice, “Little girl, we’re here.”
Zhuoxue didn’t dare show herself. The moment she’d set foot in this place, her whole body had felt wrong, as though eyes were watching from every direction.
There was also an overbearing, icy pressure bearing down on her skull—colder than the Wangchuan9 beneath her feet, as if it would scour clean every thought and feeling from all living beings.
The old woman patted her back again, still not seeing anyone, and muttered, “Did she get lost? What am I going to do?”
Zhuoxue had no choice but to give her back a light poke.
The old woman understood: “Is it against the rules?”
Zhuoxue poked her again.
The old woman said, “Then let’s sneak in together. Though come to think of it, you’re dead too—surely they wouldn’t stop you from coming to be reincarnated.”
Just as the old woman was about to pass through the copper gate, a wisp of green smoke drifted from her lower back and vanished in an instant.
Forget it, forget it. This place was truly terrifying. If she went in and couldn’t get out, what would she do?
Zhuoxue watched the old woman pass through the gate, then slunk back to Qiufeng Ridge. Before returning, she secretly sent a message to Lishu.
The reply came: “The Mountain Lord is out.”
Zhuoxue’s heart loosened with relief. She hurriedly leapt through a crack, poled the boat forward, and before long reached the shore. And upon reaching the shore, she saw…
She saw Lan Hui.
The instant she came ashore, Zhuoxue transformed into a fluffy little fox, weaving circles around Lan Hui’s legs. The fur bristling along the back of her neck betrayed her nerves completely.
Zhuoxue never expected Lishu to betray her someday. All she could do was try every way she could think of to butter up Lan Hui.
Lan Hui said coldly, “Where did you go? Why are you covered in ghostly energy? I told you to face the wall, and this is how you face it?”
The fox spoke in a human voice: “I was stealing chickens and took a wrong turn. Blame the chicken—where couldn’t it run, but underground!”
“If Lishu hadn’t confessed, I still wouldn’t know you’ve been gone for seven days!” Lan Hui snapped her wrist, and the Disciplinary Ruler materialized in her palm. “What exactly have you been doing these seven days?”
“Stealing—stealing chickens!” the fox said. “I stole chickens for seven whole days. My mouth still waters just thinking about it!”
“You’re no longer welcome at Qiufeng Ridge.” Lan Hui brought the Disciplinary Ruler down on the back of the fox’s neck. “You will go to Ninghong Mountain immediately and become a monk. This ridge of mine can no longer accommodate a great Buddha like you!”
The fox turned back into human form, sitting beside Lan Hui’s legs, and looked up and mumbled: “What mountain? Become what?”
Footnotes
- A folk expression for an extraordinary coincidence — rapeseed is tiny, and for it to fall through the eye of a needle would be an exceedingly rare fluke.
- A colloquial expression meaning to be inseparably close or fully allied with someone, as if two people were sharing a single pair of pants.
- A literary phrase describing the alluring, prosperous mortal world — 'soft' for its comforts, 'red' for its worldly splendor, 'fragrant' for its sensual pleasures.
- A traditional Chinese unit of distance, approximately half a kilometer or a third of a mile.
- Underworld deities in Chinese folk religion who escort souls of the dead to the afterlife. They appear as a pair known as the Black and White Impermanence.
- A mythical Chinese creature resembling a winged lion, believed to guard wealth and ward off evil. Stone statues of pixiu are commonly placed at doorways for protection.
- A tall banner used in Chinese funerary and underworld traditions to summon and guide souls of the deceased.
- A character from the classic Chinese mythological novel 'Investiture of the Gods' (Fengshen Yanyi), known for his ability to travel through earth and underground.
- The River of Forgetfulness in Chinese underworld mythology, which souls cross to shed their memories of the mortal world before reincarnation.
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